Countdown
by ElsaF
Summary: A series of short stories counting down to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer premiere Sept. 24
1. TwentyFive Regrets

Countdown: Twenty-Five Regrets  
  
By ElsaF  
  
Rating this part: PG-13 no sex, a bit of strong language near the end.  
  
Summary: This is the first of 25 ficlets counting down to September 24, when Buffy comes back to our television screens in the United States. Bit of angst in this first one. Most of the others will be lighter.  
  
Damn! Graffiti already. School hasn't even started and they're already marking up the walls.  
  
Alexander Harris frowned at the marks on his freshly painted wall. OK, it wasn't really *his* wall. The walls, the floors, the ceilings and all the windows and doors belonged to the taxpayers of the Sunnydale Consolidated Public School District. And there weren't any windows down here anyway. Hello... basement.  
  
But dammit, couldn't they have left it nice, at least until the new school opened? Damn teenagers.  
  
He continued down the subterranean corridor, inspecting the work he had supervised. He was looking for anything left incomplete, anything that needed to be fixed before the students arrived for school in three days.  
  
How'd they get in here anyway?  
  
He stopped next to another set of marks on the wall. The first had been nothing more than scribbles. And he'd thought this one was the same until he looked away and his peripheral vision had allowed the irregular marks to organize themselves into letters and words. Weird -- the handwriting was so bad that when you looked straight at it, it just looked like random marks. It was only when you weren't looking straight at it that you could see it was writing.  
  
1. The heavens above cannot contain my grief at causing loved ones pain.  
  
Xander's stomach did a little flop. This wasn't graffiti. At least it wasn't the kind that teenagers wrote. That was usually the names of bands or gangs or "Kevin loves Melissa."  
  
He read the couplet again and felt a little sick. Anya standing beautiful and forlorn in her wedding dress.  
  
He shook it off. Work to do. Keep your mind on the job.  
  
2. I cannot undo the wrong I've done; the injury outlives the thoughtless one.  
  
Another one. Damn. Xander paused and touched the writing. A little bit of white powder came off on his hand. It was chalk. He glanced away and the words came into focus -- along with the memory of trying to apologize.  
  
"Clearly, I'm not handling this very well."  
  
"Well, duh!"  
  
His lips pressed together in a firm line as he pushed the image away.  
  
Focus! You've got to get this inspection done.  
  
3. Lies like acid burn the tongue; when it leaves the mouth, the damage is done.  
  
Xander gritted his teeth. Was this a spell? A mystical graffiti artist? Someone like that musical demon that made him sing his secrets? He rubbed the writing with his hand and it smeared. It was just chalk. Nothing magic. He tried to remember everywhere he'd been since the last time he'd been in this corridor. Had he been down here writing this in his sleep? Somehow, whoever was marking the walls of the new high school basement knew the things he never admitted out loud.  
  
4. Love's arrow pierces the heart; destroys all it touches, death is it's art.  
  
He thought of Anya again. What he'd done to her. She wasn't even human now. He'd killed her.  
  
He didn't want to read any more. Maybe he could send Pete down here to finish the inspection. No. No way. Then Pete would be reading this. These were his own most personal thoughts. He couldn't let anybody else see them. He'd have to erase them before anybody else saw them.  
  
He went back to the janitor's closet and got a bucket and filled it with soapy water. He went back to the beginning of the graffiti and started scrubbing it off the wall. The paint was fresh and in some places the scrub brush left marks. He was going to have to come back with paint and touch this up after he was finished.  
  
5. Lust consumes the flesh it defiles, love is defeated, Satan smiles.  
  
Cordy in the janitor's closet. Willow in the old factory basement. No, don't think about it. Just scrub the filthy words off the cinderblocks.  
  
6. Of all the filthy things I hate, I feature first myself of late.  
  
7. The darkest places can't compare, to the black of my heart, I'm now aware.  
  
The couplets were coming closer together now.  
  
8. There isn't any way to fashion a way to excuse my lack of compassion.  
  
9. I hate, I hate, I hate, to remember those I ate.  
  
What? What was that supposed to mean? I'm supposed to become a vegetarian? Xander shook his head.  
  
10. I cannot overcome my past; it follows me until the last.  
  
Xander saw his father berating his mother. The cold sarcasm. The contempt. He saw himself berating Anya for some minor breech of etiquette. He paused for a moment feeling hot tears welling up behind his eyes. Then he lifted the scrub brush and obliterated the words.  
  
11. Love nurtures, but only the free; obsession imprisons, the prisoner is me.  
  
12. Failure, failure. To fail is my lot. I've failed those I love, forgiven I'm not.  
  
OK, sort of belaboring the point, aren't we? Xander scrubbed the wall with renewed vengeance. If the regret demon was going to write out his soul's torment like this, he could at least make better poetry of it. He had started to think of the graffiti artist (Was artist the right word for someone who scribbled words he could barely read?) as the regret demon. It had to be magic of some sort. How else could anyone know the secrets he only let himself remember in his darkest moments?  
  
13. My mother alone, no son to protect her; I should have gone home, but chose to neglect her.  
  
Xander frowned. I can go home anytime I like. I can. Sure it's unpleasant. I should do it. But I won't. Too much pain. Maybe I should call Mom and see if she'd like to go out to dinner.  
  
But he knew he wouldn't.  
  
14. Each life on earth is a priceless treasure. The ones I've ended I cannot measure.  
  
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Somewhere along the line, he'd stopped thinking of the couplets as invasions of his privacy. They were trying to tell him something. These were here to show him who he was and what he needed to change. That had to be it. He felt a little like Ebeneezer Scrooge -- the Mr. Magoo version, naturally. He was being shown his mistakes. If he could understand them, perhaps he could fix them.  
  
But this one was puzzling. The lives he'd ended? What lives? He stopped and though for a moment. Who had he killed? Nobody he knew... wait... The musical demon. People spontaneously combusting. Oh, yeah, them. Jesus. How do you make up for something like that? It was something he always stopped himself from thinking about. Nothing I can do about it now, he thought, but it still cut though him like a knife -- just like it did every time he remembered.  
  
15. To destroy without thinking; I must have been drinking.  
  
Xander frowned. Try harder, Mr. Regret Demon. That was just lame.  
  
16. The soul teaches what the heart didn't know; the man reaches; the monster's struck low.  
  
More cryptic stuff. Xander tried to puzzle it out. It had to mean something.  
  
17. Again and again he botches the choice; to suffer in silence, to give passion voice.  
  
18. Passion is blind; unthinking, unkind.  
  
19. Poisonous anger puts loved ones in danger.  
  
Xander sighed. That one struck home. Yup, finally getting the drift. Just call me enlightenment man, he thought bitterly. It did sound a bit like a fortune cookie, but hey, truth is truth.  
  
20. Taking. Having. Still wanting. So many times, but who's counting?  
  
21. No matter how hard I try; I'll never be good, much less alive.  
  
No, that can't be right. There has to be a way to be good enough, Xander thought. There has to be. Otherwise, what's the point? He scrubbed extra hard. Make it go away. It's not true. It can't be true. Sudsy water and chalk dust ran down the rough, cement-block wall and pooled on the cement at his feet. He kept scrubbing until he realized he'd removed the new, not completely hardened paint from three or four cement blocks.  
  
22. A soul can't repair; after rage fuels despair.  
  
23. An ocean of blood; I drown in the flood.  
  
24. Arrogance will tell; ignorance is hell.  
  
Xander paused. There was only one more couplet. The rest of the corridor was clean. This one was on the door of a utility closet. Xander stopped in front of it. His stomach flopped again. It wasn't a couplet. It didn't rhyme. And it changed everything. Oh God. It wasn't about him. It never had been. Oh God. How could he have been so blind?  
  
Scrawled on the door of the closet, in writing bigger and bolder than the rest:  
  
25. SPIKE LOVES BUFFY God I'm so fucked  
  
There was a jagged place in the "Y" in "Buffy" where the chalk had broken under the pressure of the writer's hand. And the second line trailed down diagonally, until "fucked" was nearly on top of the doorknob.  
  
He stood there a while, staring at the ragged chalk lines. Then he opened the door. A wedge of light spilled into the dark closet -- and something moved. Something dark skittered away from the light. He opened the door farther and stepped inside. There was enough light now to see the creature huddled in the corner -- black jeans and T-shirt smeared with chalk dust. His head was down and his knees drawn up.  
  
Xander knew he should be feeling the rage. He remembered it so clearly. All that anger that had filled him until it ran over and spilled out after he found the duster hanging on the banister. All that fury. All that poison. All that grief.  
  
But he'd read the twenty-five regrets now. He'd read them and scrubbed them away -- all but the last one, that is. The corridor was clean.  
  
And, at last, Xander Harris understood.  
  
"Spike! Long time no see."  
  
He held out his hand to help the vampire stand -- and waited. 


	2. The TwentyFourth

Countdown: The Twenty Fourth  
  
By ElsaF  
  
Rating this part: PG  
  
Spoilers: Up to Riley's departure in AYW, then we're AU. Summary: Buffy thinks things through  
  
March 23, 2002  
  
Buffy watched Riley and Sam rise into the sky. She glanced around at her friends and sister. They were all watching with the rapt attention of true believers privileged to be witnesses to a miracle.  
  
So why did she feel she'd just been patted on the head? Riley had been *so* understanding. Too understanding -- the word was patronizing. Where did he get off with offering to kill her current significant other?  
  
Why couldn't she say boyfriend? She'd said "I'm sleeping with Spike." Wouldn't it have been less embarrassing to say: "He's my boyfriend?"  
  
Why couldn't she call him her boyfriend? Dumb question, probably because they'd just caught him with dangerous demon eggs in his bedroom. The Slayer -- the Warrior of the People -- couldn't have a dangerous criminal for a boyfriend, could she?  
  
Buffy steeled herself. It was time to take action. She couldn't keep drifting this way. It was easy to be with Spike and not ask any questions about what he did when she wasn't around. Much too easy.  
  
Time for action. She moved far enough away that the others couldn't hear what she was saying and pulled her phone out of her purse. She hit the memory dial for Tara's number and the witch's answering machine picked up.  
  
"Tara, this is Buffy. I need to talk to you. Could you come by the Doublemeat tomorrow afternoon? Sorry to keep asking you to drop into the Seventh Circle of Hell, but I'm in enough trouble at work as it is. No way I can take another day off this week. If you can't make it, give me a call, otherwise, I'll expect you for my three o'clock break."  
  
-------------  
  
March 24, 2002  
  
Buffy showed Tara to a seat in the break room and sat down across from her.  
  
"I'm sorry to lay this on you." she began haltingly.  
  
"It's OK, Buffy. I'm flattered that you want my advice."  
  
"You're the only one I can talk to ."  
  
"Because I'm the only one who knows about Spike."  
  
"Yeah -- except not exactly. Riley knows now."  
  
"Sooner or later, people are going to find out, Buffy." Tara said carefully. "I know coming out is difficult. Goddess, do I know. But after the shock, I think you'll find that it makes everything easier."  
  
Buffy looked down at the table between them. "It's not so much the telling I'm worried about right now. It'll be hard -- but I think I can deal with it." She paused searching for the right words. "I don't know whether there's going to be anything to tell."  
  
Tara waited for her to go on.  
  
"I don't know what I feel about Spike. Oh, that's not a huge thing. I know I don't have to decide whether he's the love of my life just to be with him. Being together is how you find out of someone is the love of your life."  
  
"But?"  
  
"I think I've come to a point where I have to make up my mind about whether Spike is -- reliable."  
  
"You think he's cheating on you?"  
  
"No -- I really don't. I mean, Spike's a lot of things, but he's not faithful," Buffy said with a sigh. "No, it's not cheating on me I'm worried about. It's cheating -- in general.  
  
"I guess what I'm worrying about is whether someone with my calling can be with someone who's -- not always on the right side of the law.  
  
"I mean, something happened last night. I found out he was involved in something bad. Nothing came of it -- but how can I keep being with him if he's doing stuff like this when I'm not around?  
  
"Like his crypt. He's been redecorating. You should see it -- Oriental rugs, candles, coffee tables, a microwave. Where's he getting the money to buy all this stuff? It's not like he has a job."  
  
"I always sort of assumed Spike doesn't *buy* much of anything," Tara said, avoiding Buffy's eyes.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"So, you want to break up with him because he steals? Have you asked him about it? I mean, I get the impression he'd do almost anything for you. Maybe he'd give up stealing."  
  
"Or smoking, or insulting Xander. Yeah -- I think he would. But I wonder if I should. I mean, you're not supposed to get with a guy and then start remaking him into someone else -- at least that's what I've always thought. Shouldn't I be looking for a guy who is already somebody I can be with?"  
  
Tara considered for a moment. "I think Spike has changed a lot since I first met him. Remember when my family tried to take me away? And he proved I wasn't a demon? He was really rude -- even though he was helping me. It was like he didn't know how to be nice -- which isn't such a stretch when you think about his history.  
  
"But since then, he's been a lot nicer to me. And it seems to me that he's been learning how to get along with humans. Maybe you should give him a chance. Maybe he just needs a reason to take the next step."  
  
"If it was just petty theft, I could do that," Buffy said quietly. "But what Riley showed me he was into -- it was a lot worse than stealing rugs."  
  
"Buffy, have you considered." Tara stopped, looking for the right words. "When you broke up with Riley, wasn't it after Spike showed you he was visiting those . vampires?"  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"Does it strike you as a coincidence that you're thinking about breaking up with Spike after Riley showed you something he's into? I mean, not that coincidences don't happen."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened. "You think that Riley set him up?"  
  
Tara shrugged. "How would I know?"  
  
"Oh, God. That makes it even harder. How can I be sure?"  
  
"Have you talked to Spike about it?"  
  
"He'd probably lie."  
  
Tara gave Buffy a sad look. "Isn't that what you said after Glory tortured him?"  
  
Tears were welling up in Buffy's eyes. "I know. But how can I be sure?"  
  
"Nobody's ever sure," Tara said gently. "Loving is about taking chances."  
  
"I'm sorry, Tara. I'm asking too much. I know you can't tell me whether I can trust Spike."  
  
"Maybe I can help."  
  
"A truth spell? Could you put a truth spell on him?"  
  
Tara frowned. "That would be wrong, Buffy -- unless he agreed to it. And I think he'd be pretty hurt that you wanted to do that. He might agree if you asked, but I don't think it would be because he was OK with it."  
  
Buffy nodded and avoided Tara's eyes.  
  
"No, this is something for you. It's not like a truth spell. It's just something that will allow you to see what's in your own mind."  
  
"Can't I see that already?"  
  
"There are all sorts of bits and pieces in your mind. When you decide what you're going to do next, you pick and choose from all the bits of information you have and come up with what you think is going to happen. But you never use all the information you have, and there are all sorts of biases and prejudices that make you trust this information more than that, and affect what conclusion you come to."  
  
"Is this magic, or Psychology 314?"  
  
Tara smiled shyly. "A little of both, I guess. Think of it as a truth spell that makes you tell yourself the truth. It will give you a vision based on all the information you have. It's not really a vision of the future. Things happen that there's no way you could know about -- like someone coming to town you've never met before. It won't tell you anything you don't already know. But it will remove all your prejudices about the things you already know."  
  
"It won't tell me whether Spike's likely to tell me the truth."  
  
"You're predisposed to think he's going to lie," Tara said carefully. "And maybe, based on experience, that's true. But maybe you think that way because it's hard for you to think vampires have a choice about whether or not to lie. The spell will remove that predisposition, and you'll be able to evaluate how many times Spike has lied and how many times he's told the truth -- or something like that. It's not really that technical. We're talking about a living mind, not a computer."  
  
"When could you do it?"  
  
"Right now. It doesn't take any supplies or anything. And I don't have to look it up. I use it a lot -- on myself."  
  
"What do I have to do?"  
  
Tara got up and came around behind Buffy's chair. She put her hands on either side of Buffy's head, about an inch away from her hair.  
  
"Should I close my eyes?"  
  
"No, look at the far wall an focus on one thing."  
  
Buffy glanced at the depressing vomit-green paint and looked for something to focus on. The calendar -- March 24 -- the month just big enough for her to read over the number 24, that filled most of the square of white paper. She concentrated on the number. Twenty-four. she heard Tara chanting softly.  
  
Twenty four. The 24th of March. Today is March 24.  
  
-----------  
  
The calendar said it was March 24. She was in her own kitchen looking at a calendar with pictures of puppies. She was sitting at the table looking at the calendar. She shook her head. She was supposed to be doing something. What was it?  
  
The microwave dinged and she turned to see what was in it. A coffee mug. She took it out and stared at the dark red liquid. Blood -- of course. This vision was supposed to be about Spike -- so it only makes sense that he's here. She heard footsteps and turned.  
  
He crossed the kitchen and took the mug. "Thanks, pet. Just right," he said with a smile, taking a deep drink.  
  
She watched him drink, wondering what she should do.  
  
He was wearing dark trousers and a gray turtleneck sweater. His platinum hair was in soft curls, but still cut short. Buffy wondered where his ubiquitous black jeans and T-shirt had gone. He noticed her stare and gave her a questioning look.  
  
"Something stuck in my teeth? Fly open?"  
  
"Um. no."  
  
"Something the matter?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"We'd better get going then. Reservation is at 7."  
  
"Reservation?"  
  
"You OK, love?"  
  
"I think so. Just having a . senior moment. Where are we going again?"  
  
Spike looked concerned. "Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
"Just tell me where we're going."  
  
"Where we always go on March 24th. Bernardi's. Anniversary. hello?"  
  
"Our anniversary?"  
  
"You had someone else in mind?"  
  
"I'm sorry. Just a little confused, I guess. How many years has it been?"  
  
"Look, Buffy, you're beginning to worry me. If you don't feel up to it, we can stay in tonight."  
  
"Just tell me how many years!" Buffy snapped.  
  
"Twenty," he replied, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Should I call and cancel?" Spike asked carefully.  
  
"We've been married for twenty years," Buffy said slowly, trying to understand what was happening. She'd expected something fairly surreal as a vision. But this felt as real as -- standing in her own kitchen and talking to Spike -- except for the 20 years into the future thing.  
  
"Married?" Spike said with a surprised laugh.  
  
"We're not married?"  
  
"Has somebody put a spell on you?" Spike asked, frowning.  
  
"No. well, yes. sort of. It's hard to explain."  
  
"No, pet. We're not married. I've asked you many times. You always turn me down."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You tell me. The offer's always been open."  
  
"Spike -- I need to ask you something."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"How do you earn your living?"  
  
He blinked. "Come again?"  
  
"What do you do?"  
  
"I don't think I understand the question."  
  
Buffy turned away from him. "No. You can't answer that, can you?"  
  
"I'm not trying to hide anything, if that's what you mean."  
  
"No, I didn't mean that. I mean, you can't answer that -- because I don't know the answer. You can only tell me things I already know."  
  
Spike was silent.  
  
"So, if I want to know what I know, I just have to ask you the right questions."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
"What are we celebrating?"  
  
"Our anniversary."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Of the first time you said ." Spike didn't finish the sentence. He stood there looking at her expectantly.  
  
"Oh God. I'm so afraid to admit it, that I can't even say it to myself."  
  
"It will be all right, Buffy. Believe me. You don't have to be afraid."  
  
"I have to say it. You can't say that I said it until I actually say it."  
  
"I'm not sure what you're on about, pet. But you're probably right."  
  
"Were you planning to sell those Suvolte eggs on the black market?"  
  
"Buffy! How can you think I would do something like that?"  
  
"You didn't answer the question."  
  
"How can I? You haven't asked it yet."  
  
"What do you mean I haven't asked. oh. You're right. I haven't. This isn't real. It feels real. But you're just me talking to myself. This isn't going to do any good at all."  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
"I'm not going to learn anything I don't already know."  
  
"And what do you know?"  
  
"You tell me."  
  
"You know that I'll never leave you. You know that I'll do anything necessary to stay near you. You know that if you ask me, I'll change the nature of the universe to make it better for you. You know that I love you."  
  
Buffy felt a lump forming in her throat. "If I know all that, why can't I say I ."  
  
"It doesn't matter, pet. I'll wait as long as it takes."  
  
"Will you?"  
  
"You know I will."  
  
"March 24. Today. I must believe I'm going to tell you today."  
  
"Or next year," Spike said with a smirk.  
  
"Or the year after that."  
  
Buffy looked at Spike -- those beautiful blue eyes. She could get lost in those eyes. It should be easy to say it -- to a man with those eyes. But .  
  
------------------  
  
She felt Tara's hand on her shoulder. The calendar came back into focus. The big 24 printed on white paper. No puppies on the calendar. No kitchen. No Spike.  
  
"I think your break is ending," Tara said uncertainly.  
  
"Oh. yeah. I only get 15 minutes."  
  
"Did it help?"  
  
Buffy closed her eyes and thought for a moment.  
  
"Maybe. I don't know, yet. There's something else I have to do."  
  
"I'd better go now."  
  
"Yeah. Thanks. I really appreciate your help. I mean, it's good having someone I can talk to."  
  
Tara smiled. "Any time, Buffy."  
  
Buffy sighed. Two more hours of foisting texturized vegetable protein disguised as meat on an unsuspecting public.  
  
-------------------  
  
When Buffy came down the ladder, Spike was standing in the middle of his ruined bedroom.  
  
"I thought you'd be off snogging the soldier boy," he said bitterly.  
  
"He's gone."  
  
"So, you come for a bit of cold comfort? The bed's a bit blown up, but then, that was never our."  
  
"I'm not here to."  
  
"Oh, then this is worse. This is you telling me."  
  
"No. It's not. This is me asking you what the frigging hell you thought you were up to."  
  
Spike looked at her in surprise.  
  
"And if I told you, would you believe me? The enormous Boy Scout told you I'm an international arms dealer. And he never tells a fib, right?"  
  
"Leave Riley out of it. Riley is history. He's a mistake I made way back when. I want to hear what you say. You're going to tell me what was going on here and I'm going to believe whatever you tell me, because if I can't believe you, I have no business being with you at all."  
  
"That's it? I tell you and you believe me?"  
  
"That's the idea."  
  
"Who are you and what have you done with my Buffy?"  
  
"I'm not laughing, Spike. I'm serious. I want to know what was going on here."  
  
Spike frowned.  
  
"I don't think you're going to like this story, pet."  
  
"I don't care. Spill."  
  
Spike took a deep breath. "All right. I run into this guy at Willy's. He asks me if I want to pick up a quick $500."  
  
Buffy listened, her face set in a mask of displeasure. He went on for some time and in some detail. He was right. She didn't like it much. But it wasn't as bad as Riley implied.  
  
March 24th, she thought with resignation.  
  
Maybe next year. 


	3. TwentyThree Victims

Countdown: Twenty-Three Victims  
  
By ElsaF elsa@frohman.net  
  
Rating: PG-13 (violence and implied sexual activity)  
  
Spoilers: None -- Spike historical  
Summary: Spike and Dru in World War II  
  
July 1943  
  
Hamburg burned for nine days.   
  
It was glorious at the beginning -- bombs falling one   
after another, sending up fountains of flame into the   
night sky, roaring like hell itself. You could feel the   
ground shake with each impact. The fires sucked up all   
the air and stirred up cyclones. The heat burned off   
clothing and turned humans to dry husks then ash. Even   
the paving stones burned.   
  
But at the end, it was like any other fire -- ash and   
embers and smoke and dirty water running through the   
gutters.  
  
Dru and me, we stayed far enough away from the city   
center that we didn't burn up. Right, you'd think that   
was a given, but I had to restrain my dark princess.   
She wanted to walk into the inferno. I had to remind   
her over and over that she'd be dust long before she   
got to the center of the conflagration.   
  
We watched from the roof of a church at the edge of   
town. Her eyes sparkled. "It's hell, Spike," she   
whispered. "It's come for us. I can hear it calling my   
name."  
  
"Can you, love?"  
  
"It's a great beast. It crouches and roars and calls   
out to me. We must go into it, Spike! It's waiting for   
us. It cries out with the voice of a griffin. It wants   
to eat us, and make us its own."  
  
"No sweetheart. It's not time, yet. We'll get to hell   
soon enough."  
  
"Will you take me to hell, my brave knight?"  
  
"I'll take you anywhere you want to go, princess. But   
not tonight. Let's just sit back and watch the pretty   
fires."  
  
"I can think of something better," she hissed in my   
hear, wrapping her lovely arms around me.   
  
We made love on that church roof, with the light of the   
burning city flickering on the copper sheathing. All   
the while below, the streets were thick with people   
fleeing the searing wind and flames. Their terror   
drifted up to us. We could smell it and we could hear   
it, and it made us laugh as we held on to one another,   
riding the tide of fear and despair in a torrent of   
arousal.   
  
It was just luck that we were in the city when the   
Allied bombers came. We'd left England for the   
Continent to taste the war. Not that there wasn't   
plenty to snack on in London. But with the blackout   
rules, and the general English tendency towards order,   
it just wasn't as exciting as coming to the   
battlefields.   
  
We made love for hours that night. And when we were   
done, Dru lay back against the roof and laughed. Seeing   
her so happy filled my heart until it felt like it   
would burst.   
  
"I'm hungry," she said at last.  
  
"All you can eat," I said, gesturing down at the   
surging humanity in the street below. "And nobody'll   
miss a one of them."  
  
"Let's find someone special," she replied with a toothy   
grin. "I want something ever so tasty."  
  
"And you shall have it. What do you fancy? A family?   
Oh, I know. There's an orphanage down the street. Lot's   
of tender young ones."  
  
"Oh, yes! That would be lovely," she said, clapping her   
hands like a happy child.  
  
-----------  
  
We made our way through the panicked crowd in a state   
of euphoria. I grabbed a snack or two along the way --   
why wait?  
  
We were cutting through an alley, when a jeep suddenly   
pulled across and blocked the opening at the far end.   
We turned back and another blocked the way we'd come   
in. Bloody hell! In the midst of all this chaos,   
someone had been tracking us. We'd probably attracted   
their attention with our little public display of   
affection on the rooftop. Who'd of thought anyone would   
be looking at us, when the bombs were falling and the   
city was turning to molten lava.  
  
Not that a parked jeep was going to contain us. I had   
Dru's hand and we ran down the alley intending to leap   
the vehicle at the end. That was easy enough. We'd be   
over their heads before they realized we had moved.  
  
But the soldiers knew what they were dealing with.   
Before we got close enough to jump, the driver of the   
jeep had a crossbow out and was pointing it at my   
heart. And there were others. Soldiers poured into the   
alley from both ends and surrounded us. Some had   
crosses, most had crossbows. We were handcuffed and   
bundled into the back of a truck parked just out of   
sight beyond the end of the alley.  
  
-------------  
  
They took Dru away, and left me handcuffed to a water   
pipe in someone's office. It was an old building   
refitted with modern plumbing, so the pipes were   
exposed. I tested the strength of my restraints. The   
handcuffs were strong, but the soft, lead pipe wasn't.   
It was only going to take one strong yank to free me.   
But I waited. Better to get an idea of what these   
people had in mind first.  
  
I didn't have to wait long. A tall, gaunt man in an SS   
uniform came in. He had steel-gray hair, cropped short   
and a scar across one cheek. In short, he looked like   
one of those cartoon Nazis they run in the London   
tabloids.  
  
"Willkommen," the cartoon Nazi said.  
  
"You've got no idea what a bad idea this was," I said   
in German.  
  
I yanked on the handcuffs and the pipe snapped. Water   
started pouring out onto the floor, but it didn't touch   
me, because I was already across the room, bearing down   
on my would-be captor.  
  
He didn't flinch, I'll give him that. My hands were   
still behind my back, but I didn't need them. I   
barreled right into him and knocked him onto the desk   
on his back. My fangs were already against his neck   
when he spoke.  
  
"Before you do that, you might look out the window," he   
said calmly. There was something about his tone of   
voice that stopped me. I backed off a little.  
  
"Take a look. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
I went to the window and looked out. We were on the   
first story, a floor above ground level, and the window   
looked out over a courtyard. In better times, it would   
have been a garden. Now it was a staging area for   
military operations.   
  
In the center of the courtyard was a reflecting pool,   
and over the pool a simple A-frame had been constructed   
to suspend an iron cage.   
  
Dru was in the cage.  
  
"The pool is filled with holy water, in case you're   
wondering," the officer said calmly.  
  
Seeing Dru caged that way -- it filled me with rage. In   
that moment of white-hot anger, I snapped the chain   
that held my manacled wrists together.  
  
"You're going to pay for that," I snarled.   
  
The officer seemed amused. "We have a tarpaulin ready   
to cover the cage before dawn. However, if I do not   
personally give the order, the cage will remain exposed   
when the sun comes up. I believe that is approximately   
two hours away."  
  
His confidence enraged me, but I held my temper.  
  
"You needn't glare at me so. I don't intend to harm   
your mate. I just needed a bit of leverage, so I can   
talk to you. You may find that our interests are   
aligned."  
  
"I seriously doubt it," I growled. But I forced my   
demon face back inside.  
  
"I am Col. Werner. What may I call you?"  
  
I just glared at him.  
  
"Very well, it is not important. Let us get down to   
business.  
  
"You arrived in Hamburg four days ago. In those four   
days, you have killed eleven people."  
  
"Twelve," I interjected.  
  
"Really? We must have missed one of the bodies."  
  
"Dropped it off the bridge into the river."  
  
"Ah, I see. Twelve then. It hardly matters. I'm not a   
policeman. I'm not arresting you for murder." He   
gestured toward the window. "Your body count is   
inconsequential when you compare it to that." The red   
glow of the burning city was visible over the rooftops   
beyond the courtyard.  
  
"Got to agree with you there," I said with a laugh.   
"You humans are always coming up with better ways to   
kill each other."  
  
"See? Our interests aren't so different."  
  
"So, you've worked out how to mass produce corpses.   
What's it to me? They're no good to eat the way you   
kill them."  
  
The Nazi laughed. "The Fatherland could make use of   
your special skills," he said.  
  
"The Fatherland? Are you joking?"  
  
"The Third Reich will eventually triumph over all. Even   
your kind -- unless you become one with us."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Bit overconfident, aren't you?   
Way it looks to me, you're getting your ass kicked out   
there tonight."  
  
The Nazi snorted. "This -- this is nothing. Most of the   
dead are civilians. The Allies waste their bombs. We   
will prevail."  
  
"If you say so. What's it got to do with me?"  
  
"You are a predator. Like me. You live to kill. You   
revel in your victims' pain and terror. We are   
brothers.   
  
"I'm offering you all the victims you could hope for.   
Rivers of blood. Join us. You could be invaluable to   
our mission."  
  
"Let me get this straight. You want me to join you --   
so you surround us in an alley, handcuff us and throw   
us in the back of a truck, then you cage my woman. I   
hope you'll forgive me for being skeptical of your   
friendly intentions."  
  
"I needed leverage to ensure that you would listen to   
me, my friend. I have no illusions. I know how   
dangerous you are."  
  
"Do you?" I said with a laugh. "I'll take that as a   
compliment. But, I'm afraid I'm going to have to   
decline your generous offer. I don't give a damn about   
your mission, one way or the other.  
  
"You were right to consider me dangerous. I am -- in   
ways you can barely imagine. But you still made a big   
mistake. You think women are weak, don't you? I think   
you've rather underestimated my dear Drusilla."  
  
Not all vampires can do the thrall. I've never been any   
good at it. But Dru is one of them that can. More than   
that -- she's better at it than anyone I've ever known.  
  
I'd been watching out the window through the entire   
conversation with my comic opera Nazi. I saw the young   
soldier assigned to guard her fall under the spell of   
her voice. I couldn't hear her from up here, but I   
could imagine it. She would start out talking in her   
little girl voice, pleading with her guard for   
compassion. And as he listened, she took control of his   
will. The boy had waded into the pool and opened the   
cage. He'd carried her over the deadly water and set   
her down on the dry flagstones.  
  
He was dead now.  
  
The SS officer looked out the window and saw the empty   
cage, its door ajar. He turned back to me, and for the   
first time, I saw fear in his eyes.  
  
He wasn't afraid for long.  
  
-----------  
  
In the chaos of the firebombing, most of the troops   
assigned to that headquarters were out in the town --   
desperately trying to move equipment away from the   
inferno.   
  
There were twenty-three SS officers and enlisted men on   
the premises, though. They were the ones left behind to   
defend the headquarters and help with the commander's   
little project to recruit a vampire.  
  
I've read since that 40,000 people perished on the   
first night of the bombing. I've got to hand it to the   
military types. That's just neat.  
  
I've never read anything about what happened to that SS   
squad. I suppose it just wasn't significant in   
comparison to what happened to the rest of the city.  
  
But Dru and I know that of those 40,000 victims,   
twenty-three were ours.   
  
We ate well that night. 


	4. TwentyOne, Coming of Age

Countdown: Twenty-One, Coming of Age  
  
By ElsaF  
  
Spoilers: Through Dead Things. This is another AU, the same   
AU, as it happens, as The Twenty-Fourth, though this is a   
prequel, not a sequel.  
Summary: Today, it's Buffy's 21st birthday. The party in Older   
and Far Away, didn't happen.  
  
  
Spike ushered Buffy through the door of Willy's, holding the   
door for her like a gentleman, and pulling out a bar stool for   
her.  
  
"At the bar?" Buffy asked. "I thought we'd get a table and have   
dinner..."  
  
"You don't want to eat anything here, take my word for it. If   
you're hungry we can go someplace else later. Right now, you   
have an important rite of passage to perform."  
  
"Oh? And what's that?"  
  
"Buying a beer. You can get one for me while you're at it."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes.  
  
"It's not like I've never had a beer. Believe me... I've had beer."  
  
"I don't doubt it. But today, you can do it legally. You can get   
out your driver's license and show it to Willy, and he'll pour   
you a beer."  
  
Buffy frowned. "I don't have a driver's license."  
  
"Your I.D., then."  
  
"Since when did you get all concerned about doing things   
legally?"  
  
Spike laughed. "I'm not. But this is a thing. A celebration."  
  
She gave him a skeptical look. She'd agreed to let him take her   
out for her birthday -- it seemed like a better idea than having a   
party, considering her track record with birthday parties. And   
he'd agreed they would go somewhere where they weren't   
likely to run into anyone who knew her. Of course, Willy knew   
her, but she guessed that didn't count.   
  
"I don't even like beer."  
  
"You've probably never had a good beer."  
  
"You may have a point. The beer I had was clearly not good   
beer."  
  
Spike motioned to Willy. "Over here. The lady would like a   
Heineken."  
  
The bartender came over and paused in front of Buffy,   
regarding her seriously.  
  
"I'm sorry, young lady. I'm going to have to see some I.D.," he   
said gravely.  
  
Buffy giggled. "Spike put you up to that, didn't he? I've been in   
here plenty of times, and you've never asked me for I.D."  
  
"Well, you've never ordered a drink before." He pretended to   
be serious for another moment, then he smiled.  
  
"Yeah. Happy Birthday, Buffy. First one's on the house."  
  
"This what they do in England?" she said, turning to Spike.  
  
"Nah. Rules are different. People start drinking a lot younger."  
  
Willy poured Buffy's beer and set the glass on the bar in front   
of her. The head spilled over the edge of the glass and down on   
to the grubby surface. She watched the foam turn to liquid and   
soak into the paper napkin under the drink.  
  
"What can I get you, Spike? I've got some fresh O-positive in   
the fridge..."  
  
"Not tonight. Just give me what the lady's having."  
  
He turned back to Buffy.  
  
"So, what's keeping the Little Bit out of trouble tonight?"  
  
"She's spending the night at Janice's. She gave me her present   
after school." Buffy paused and frowned a little. "I'm a little   
worried about that, actually. It was a leather jacket. I don't see   
how she could afford something like that and ... it still had the   
security tag on it."  
  
Spike growled under his breath. "Bloody security tags," he   
grumbled.  
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Security tags aren't the problem,   
Spike. How Dawn got the jacket is the problem."  
  
"I know. But it's just really annoying. Security tags,   
surveillance cameras, guards. Merchants here treat their   
customers like sodding theives."  
  
"Maybe because some of them are sodding theives," Buffy said   
irritably.  
  
Spike was silent. Buffy looked over at him and saw what she   
had avoided looking at all evening -- the black eye. She looked   
away again instantly.  
  
"Hey, you don't have to look away," he said softly. "It's just a   
black eye. It'll be gone in a day or two. Almost gone now."  
  
Buffy kept avoiding his eyes.   
  
"I'm not holding a grudge or anything."  
  
"No, you never do. It just ... hurts to look at it."  
  
"Don't look then. I don't care."  
  
"You were right, you know," Buffy said slowly. "You were   
right for all the wrong reasons, but you were still right. I didn't   
kill that girl and I didn't need to turn myself in."  
  
"Hey, you don't have to get so serious. It's your birthday. We're   
supposed to be celebrating."  
  
Buffy nodded. "You know, I think this turning 21 thing -- it's   
not really about being able to buy a beer."  
  
"You're going to be all serious anyway, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, I am. I think it's about growing up. About being an   
adult and being responsible for yourself and what you do."  
  
"You've always been responsible."  
  
"Have I? Then why can't I stand to look at what I did to you?"  
  
"It's nothing, Buffy. Really. Mostly healed already. No   
permanent damage at all."  
  
"I lost control. I can't do that."  
  
"Lets not talk about it anymore. I'm OK. That's all that matters,   
isn't it?"  
  
"No, that's not all that matters," Buffy said firmly.  
  
"Ah well, I guess that confirms my place in your world," he   
said bitterly.  
  
"Spike... "  
  
"Never mind, pet. You don't have to pretend you give a damn   
about what happens to me."  
  
"Oh cut it out. I care what happens to you. All I'm saying is   
that I'm upset with myself because I did that to you. I can't lose   
control that way."  
  
"If you say so," he said, staring intently at his beer.  
  
"I'm sorry, Spike. I feel very bad about what I did."  
  
He continued to stare at the beer.  
  
Buffy sighed. "OK, change the subject. Did you get me a   
birthday present?"  
  
"Uh... caught a little short this week, pet. Thought I'd offer   
services in lieu of, so to speak." He tensed, waiting for the   
angry explosion. Should have kept my mouth shut, he told   
himself. Suggesting sex is the best way to get her to declare   
that she'd never sleep with him again. It only worked when it   
was her idea. He'd never have said it, if he hadn't been so   
desperate for a change of subject.  
  
"Sure you're up to it?" she said, looking directly at him.  
  
He looked back at her in surprise.   
  
"Um... yeah. I can manage." A slow smile spread across his   
face. "You might want to go a little easy on me. Couple of ribs   
here still mending."  
  
"OK, I'll keep that in mind."  
  
He looked back at her, trying to figure out where this was   
coming from.   
  
"Did I grow another head?" Buffy asked with a little smile.  
  
"No, the one you've got is just fine. Never seen one better."  
  
"Let's get out of here. This place is a dive.   
  
"I want my birthday present." 


	5. A TwentyDollar Bill

Countdown: A $20 Bill  
Author: Elsa Frohman  
Feedback: elsa@frohman.net  
Rating: G  
Spoilers: None -- Souled Spike AU  
Summary: This is the sixth of 25 ficlets counting down to   
September 24, when Buffy the Vampire Slayer returns to U.S.   
TV screens. It's just a $20 bill, right?  
Archiving: Please ask. But I will eventually be putting these   
stories up on my fiction page at: http://www.frohman.net/fic/  
  
  
A twenty-dollar bill. That's all it was. Not worth that much.  
  
I found it on the ground, blowing down Main Street, a few   
storefronts down from what used to be the Magic Box.   
  
I'd been standing outside the shuttered magic store, wondering   
what happened. Peering in through the window, I could see   
parts of the ceiling had collapsed. All the fixtures had been   
stripped out of the place. There was a hand-lettered sign on the   
door that said "Closed for renovations," but it was obvious that   
nobody was renovating the place. What became of Anya?   
Surely she wouldn't have given up and left it like this? That   
store was her life.  
  
I wondered who I could ask about it. I didn't want to see Buffy   
or Dawn or any of their cohorts just yet. Wasn't ready. Wanted   
to have a plan first, and right then, I was still having too much   
trouble getting my bearings. You'd think a moral compass   
would help you navigate -- but truth is, it left me a bit lost.  
  
I'd been hanging around town, keeping out of sight, and   
fighting the occasional demon. It's all I could think of to do. I   
had a century and then some of misdeeds to make up for, and I   
wasn't sure of how to go about it. So I just went back to doing   
more or less what I was doing before -- I was just being less   
visible about it.  
  
So, when I saw that twenty-dollar bill blowing down the street   
I picked it up and wondered if it was some sort of sign. Could   
it be a hint that there was something other than killing demons  
I could do to make up for my evil past?  
  
What can you do with twenty dollars? It's not that much. Three   
packs of cigarettes, a bottle of middling good booze, two movie   
tickets and popcorn, or maybe dinner for two at the   
Doublemeat Palace. Not much at all.  
  
Probably not a sign from the Powers that Be. More likely just   
some sod's bad luck, dropping it and letting it blow away.  
  
So I decided to take it to the church down the street and stuff it   
in the poor box.  
  
That's where my troubles began. I got inside, and there's the   
box, right inside the door. But it's got a cross on it. The thing   
covers the whole top of the box, and the slot to stick the money   
through is right through one of the bars. I can't touch it.  
  
I'm standing there, trying to figure out how to put the bill into   
the box without touching it -- the bill was an old one, real soft   
and rumply, so I couldn't just drop it and have it go through the   
slot -- when the priest comes up. He probably thought I was   
standing there trying to figure out how to break the lock.   
Priests just aren't a trusting as they used to be.  
  
"Can I help you, my son?"  
  
I held the bill out to him. "Could you put this in the box for   
me?"  
  
"Charity soothes the soul," he said, and I found myself thinking   
that maybe I was sent here with a purpose, after all. "But it has   
to come from the heart. Put the money in the box, I think you   
will find you like the feeling."  
  
"I want to put the money in the box, but I can't touch it. Sorta   
an allergy, father. Could you do it for me?" I was still holding   
the money out to him.  
  
The priest frowned. He'd been giving me a funny look -- sort of   
a you-look-familiar-why-can't-I place-you kind of thing. And   
suddenly he remembered. I attacked him once in a cemetery.   
Buffy pulled me off him -- I hadn't really meant to do him any   
harm. It was just a momentary rage thing. Don't know why   
they would have been having a burial at any time when I could   
be around anyway.  
  
"Vampire!" he shouted, grabbing his crucifix and shoving it in   
my face.  
  
"Bloody hell!" I flattened myself back against the wall and   
went game face. I didn't mean to, but he'd startled me and it's   
sort of a fight or flight reaction.  
  
"Back creature of darkness!"  
  
"Oh, give it a rest," I said in disgust. "Enough with the Roger   
Corman dialog. I just want to…" But it was no use, he was   
forcing me back with the crucifix, and I had no choice but to   
run out of the church.  
  
I might have given up then, took the money to Willy's and had   
a drink or two, but I was pretty determined to do the right   
thing. There's a homeless shelter down the street from the   
church, and I thought maybe they'd take the money, if the   
Catholic Church didn't want it.   
  
Dru and me had eaten enough homeless people -- maybe I was   
supposed to start making amends by helping the homeless.  
  
I walked into the Helping Hands Shelter and looked around for   
someone in charge. I couldn't just hand it to one of the winos.   
They'd just go buy a couple of bottles of Wild Turkey and that   
wouldn't help anybody. Not that my $20 was going to change   
anyone's life -- I just want to get it to where it could do some   
good.  
  
There was a young woman sitting behind a desk in the corner   
of the common room. I went over. She hadn't looked up at me   
yet. I cleared my throat.   
  
"We're full for tonight," she said, continuing to work on the   
ledger in front of her without looking up.  
  
"I'd like to make a donation," I said. That got her attention. She   
looked up and her eyes went all wide. She practically knocked   
over her chair jumping back.  
  
You see, I hadn't been spending much time around people for a   
while. I'd been hiding out, licking my wounds, so to speak.   
And along the way, I'd sort of forgotten about my game face   
and how people react to it. And after I left the church, I hadn't   
thought to go back to my human face. Shit.  
  
"Hey, that guy is after Denise!" somebody shouted behind me.   
Before I knew what was happening, about fifteen homeless   
guys piled on me. They were all human, so I couldn't even   
defend myself.  
  
I can't say they were very effective as fighters. There wasn't a   
one of them who could hit better than a Girl Scout. They were   
mostly pretty emaciated old men. But there were enough of   
them that they had me on the floor in a second. All I could do   
was protect my head with my arms.   
  
"Hey! Cut it out! I just wanted to…"  
  
Finally, I just threw them off. It hurt like hell, but there was   
nothing else for it. They hadn't hurt me, except for tearing my   
shirt, but I was pretty well hacked off.  
  
"Bugger this!" I said, stalking out, the money still in my   
pocket.  
  
Well, I'd given charity a fair chance, and it just wasn't working   
out for me. Time to get a new plan. Commerce.  
  
I went down to the Kwik Stop convenience store on the corner   
and got a six-pack and a couple of packs of cigarettes. Maybe it   
wasn't helping anybody, but at least I wasn't stealing them,   
OK?  
  
When I got up to the counter to pay, a guy comes in wearing a   
ski mask carrying a pistol. Great -- a robbery. Once again, a   
human, so there wasn't much I could do. He ordered the clerk   
to open the cash register.  
  
The clerk was an idiot. One of those oh-no-I'm-not-getting-  
robbed-again sort of guys. He shook his head and started to   
reach under the counter. Bad move.  
  
The robber raised the gun to blow his head off, and I saw there   
was one thing I could do. I moved toward him and yelled. It   
distracted him and he shot me instead of the clerk. Point-blank,   
right in the chest. No problem. Guns can't hurt me. But it did   
put another hole in my shirt.  
  
When I don't even flinch, the robber gets scared. He backs   
away, then turns and bolts.  
  
The clerk was pretty shook up. "Oh, man! Oh, man! He shot   
you. I'll call 911. Hold on man…"  
  
I turn to him. "It's all right," I said. "I'm not hurt. He, um…   
missed."  
  
But the clerk could see the bullet hole and powder burns on my   
shirt, and the hole in my chest beneath. The guy got scared then   
and started backing away. "What are you?" he said, his voice   
shaking.  
  
"Just a guy trying to buy some beer…"  
  
"Take it… get out…"  
  
So I left with my six-pack and cigarettes, but I still had the   
damn $20 bill. I was starting to think I knew why it had been   
blowing down the street.  
  
Back out on the street, I saw a girl standing by herself under a   
street lamp. She didn't look to be more than 17 or 18, and she   
was dressed like a -- OK, she wasn't just dressed like a whore,   
it was pretty clear she was one.   
  
OK, one more try…  
  
I went up to her. It's hard to start a conversation with "Would   
you like $20?" But I was determined to try.  
  
She took it all wrong.  
  
"Twenty?" she sneered. "Honey, you're not bad looking, but   
I'm not doing you for $20."  
  
"No, I don't want… I just want to give you the money. Go   
home. You don't need to do this."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Right… $20 and my life is all better. Go   
put it in the poor box," she said, turning away from me.  
  
"Already tried that."  
  
She turned back and gave me a strange look, taking in the   
condition of my shirt -- which was pretty disreputable at that   
point.  
  
"You look like you could use that $20 more than me," she said.   
"Why don't you take it to WalMart and buy yourself some   
clothes?"  
  
I started to laugh. She must have thought I was one of those   
homeless crazy people. She started to back away.  
  
"No, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just having a bad night."  
  
She stopped and smiled a little. "Yeah, I know what you mean.   
Your $20 is the best offer I've had all night. Sometimes it just   
doesn't pay to get out of bed."  
  
"Or into it," I said.  
  
She laughed at that.  
  
"Tell you what," she said, eyeing my beer. "Give me one of   
those and we can sit down and talk. Mind you, I don't work that   
cheap, so don't get any ideas."  
  
"No problem."  
  
It turned out her name was Marcie and she was from   
Oklahoma. Came out to Los Angeles to try to be an actress,   
and ended up working the streets. Met a guy who promised to   
take care of her and came to Sunnydale with him. He dumped   
her and she ended up back on the street.  
  
I told her my life story, at least as much as I could tell and not   
have her thinking I was completely starkers. I told her the   
vague, love gone wrong, trying to change myself version.   
  
Marcie and I drank up the six-pack and I ended up giving her   
the cigarettes. Hell, what did I care, I didn't pay for them. Need   
to give up the filthy things anyway.  
  
After she left, I sat on the park bench for a while longer.   
Maybe I didn't change Marcie's life, but at least she didn't   
shove a cross at me, beat me over the head or shoot me, so   
things were looking up.  
  
I still had the bloody $20 bill though.  
  
Moved on to Willy's. Still a while until last call. Figured I'd   
spend the $20 and be rid of it.  
  
You run into the strangest people in Willy's. Of course, most of   
them aren't people at all.  
  
I sat down in the corner booth -- not feeling much like   
socializing up at the bar. A couple of minutes later a guy comes   
and sits down with me. Sort of a Kevin Sorbo-looking sort of   
bloke. Square jaw, broad shoulders, blue eyes and this I'm-  
good-can't-you-tell-by-looking expression.  
  
"Can I join you?"   
  
"Looks like you already did, mate."  
  
I was thinking he might be a poofter, he seemed to be coming   
on to me, if you know what I mean.   
  
"How's the good deed thing working out for you?" he asked.  
  
I gave him a dirty look. I should have known that when a guy   
comes on to you at Willy's, he isn't your garden-variety queer.  
  
"What's it to you?"  
  
"Just wondering what sort of return I was getting on my $20   
investment."  
  
I should have cold cocked him right there. But the chip has   
taken the edge off my hair trigger temper.  
  
"What are you? The ghost of Michael Landon?"  
  
"Not exactly -- but you're on the right track."  
  
"Well, it's been a bloody washout. Take your bleedin' $20. If I   
try to help anybody else there'll be another apolcalypse."  
  
The poofter laughed. "You haven't done so badly."  
  
"Not bad? The priest shoved a crucifix in my face, the   
homeless guys tried to beat the shite out of me, I got shot in the   
convenience store and the trollop wouldn't even take my   
money. That's good?"  
  
The poofter chuckled. "It's all in how you look at it.  
  
"First, you saved the clerk's life. No question about that. That's   
worth $20 any night of the week.  
  
"But the rest of it went pretty well, too."  
  
"Define 'well,' " I growled.  
  
"Let's see. The priest -- after you left, he realized you were   
trying to put the money in the box, but couldn't because of the   
cross on top. He's sitting up in the rectory right now meditating   
on good and evil and how it could be that a vampire was trying   
to give money to the poor. He's very confused right now, but   
when he sorts it out, he's going to be better for the experience."  
  
"Oh, right. I'm bleedin' St. Francis."  
  
"Not quite -- but you're getting the idea.  
  
"Now, at the homeless shelter. Those old guys are there   
because they've stopped thinking they're worth anything.   
They've failed so many times that they don't believe they can   
do anything right. But tonight, they rescued a fair damsel from   
an attacker. You know, those old guys are feeling really good   
about themselves tonight."  
  
"And their better for the experience," I said sarcastically.   
"Right, nothing makes a bloke feel better than beatin' some   
other bloke up."  
  
"I believe you've felt that way at times in your life, haven't   
you?"  
  
I had to admit, he had me there.  
  
"OK, we've covered the convenience store," I said. "What   
about Marcie? I suppose you're going to tell me she's going to   
change her life and become Mother Theresa now."  
  
"No, I don't think so. The big changes don't come that easily.   
You should know that. I expect she'll be back out on the street   
tomorrow night.  
  
"But how long do you think it's been since she just sat and   
talked to a guy and didn't have to put out? You don't have to fix   
all a person's problems at once. Sometimes, just making them   
feel a little better is the best you can accomplish."  
  
"You're not human, are you?" I asked.  
  
"No, of course not. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Just wanted to make sure. Chip, you know."  
  
I reached over the table and grabbed him. I dragged him out of   
the booth and out the back door into the alley. The look on his   
face was worth every moment of the whole wretched night,   
when I threw him up against the wall and went game face on   
him.  
  
"I want to make one thing perfectly clear," I snarled. "There is   
no bloody way my life is going to be come 'Highway to   
Heaven, the Vampire Years'! Do you hear me?   
NO.BLOODY.WAY!"  
  
I took out the $20 bill and stuffed it in his mouth. I had another   
place in mind, but that would have meant taking off his   
trousers, and I was afraid he might enjoy that.  
  
I stalked back into Willy's and went back to my booth.  
  
If I see the sodding berk again, I'm going to tear his head off. 


	6. 19th Nervous Breakdown

Countdown: 19th Nervous Breakdown  
By ElsaF  
Disclaimer: 19th Nervous Breakdown is copyrighted to Mick   
Jagger and Keith Richards, 1965. All characters here belong to   
Mutany Enemy/Joss Whedon.   
Summary: I never meant "The Twenty-Fourth" to be kicking   
off a series, but I find that it did whether I planned it or not.   
This is a sequel to "The Twenty-Fourth" and "Twenty-One,   
Coming of Age." Buffy didn't break up with Spike in As You   
Were, and she has apologized for the Dead Things beating.   
  
  
  
  
**You better stop, look around  
Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes  
Here comes your nineteenth nervous breakdown  
  
Oh, who's too blame, that girl's just insane  
Well, nothing I do don't seem to work  
It only seems to make matters worse. Oh, please  
  
You were still in school when you had that fool who really   
messed your mind  
And after that you turned your back on treating people kind  
On our first trip I tried so hard to rearrange your mind  
But after awhile I realized you were disarranging mine**  
  
Willy's jukebox played the Rolling Stones. Spike sat in a booth   
in the corner, nursing a beer.   
  
**Oh, who's too blame, that girl's just insane  
Well, nothing I do don't seem to work  
It only seems to make matters worse. Oh, please**  
  
Sing it Mick. He sighed and took another drink.  
  
"Sad," said a deep rumbling voice.   
  
Spike looked up to find a Fyarl looking down at him   
sympathetically.  
  
Oh God, I've invented a whole new level of pathetic, he   
thought. I've got a Fyarl feeling sorry for me.   
  
"Move along, mate. Nothing to see."  
  
The horned demon didn't take the hint, though. They seldom   
did. Subtlety was generally lost on Fyarl. Far from moving   
along, it decided to sit down with him.  
  
"Oh suit yourself," Spike grumbled. "Just keep your mucous to   
yourself."  
  
"Hurt?" the Fyarl asked.  
  
"Yeah, hurt. Broke up with my bird."  
  
"Bird fly?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. Never expect a Fyarl to understand   
idiom. "Girlfriend. I broke up with my girlfriend."  
  
"Love bird," the demon said with a nod.  
  
"Yeah. I do."  
  
The Fyarl tilted his head curiously.   
  
"Why don't I just go and apologize and make up? Heh... not   
that simple, mate. What's your name, anyway?"  
  
"Gah!" the Fyarl said, thumping his chest.  
  
"Well, Gah, there's nothing I want more. I'd crawl on my belly,   
I'd lick her shoes -- I'd do anything. But I can't. I just can't.   
She's got to give me a crumb. Just a crumb. I can't go on the   
way we were.  
  
"It wasn't all hugs and puppies. It was good, God it was good.   
But there was a lot of not good in there too. We were sort of   
rough on each other..."  
  
"Love thump!" Gah said enthusiastically.  
  
Spike smiled. Right, he'd forgotten about Fyarl mating ritual.   
Talking about how she'd beat him up wasn't going to shock the   
Fyarl at all. Maybe, if it didn't look like he could ever patch it   
up with Buffy, he should suggest she try dating a Fyarl...  
  
"Yeah, we did some love thump. But that wasn't the real   
problem."  
  
Gah waited for him to go on.  
  
Spike sighed and took a drink.  
  
"Some mutual friends of ours were supposed to get married a   
few weeks ago. I couldn't go to the wedding -- daytime, you   
know. But she went, and a couple of nights later, I ran into her   
and she was telling me about it. The groom ran out and left the   
bride to tell all the guests what happened. Bleedin' twat didn't   
have the balls to call it off himself."  
  
Gah snarled. "Rip apart!"   
  
"Yeah -- I ought to give you his address. You could explain to   
him about nuptial obligation -- Fyarl style.  
  
"But that's not the point. We were just sitting on a bench and   
she was telling me about it, when here comes the wanker   
himself, and another one of her friends.  
  
"Here's the thing. We were just sitting there talking, and all the   
sudden, she can't stand to have them see that she'd even talk to   
me. She tells them she was questioning me to see if I had any   
contraband. Contraband? I ask you, would it have been so   
awful for her to say 'I was telling him about the wedding?' "  
  
The Fyarl frowned and made a rumbling noise in his throat.  
  
"But even then, it would of been OK. I knew she didn't want   
people to know about us. Hell, I agreed to keep it a secret. I   
wasn't going to go back on my word.  
  
"What I didn't know then was that she'd been stung by a   
glarghk guhl kashma'nik. And she passed out about then. I was   
worried about her and just wanted to take care of her, but her   
two friends were there, and they're not supposed to know about   
us, so I've just got to watch them take her away.  
  
"I was all torn up worrying about her, and the wanker comes   
back and asks me to help him catch the demon that stung her so   
they can make an antidote. Of course I'm going to help, right?"  
  
Gah nodded. "Thump!"  
  
"Yeah, I thumped the thing, that's for sure. Nobody messes   
with my girl.  
  
"Red made the antidote, and she even gave it to me to give to   
her. She was pretty sick. Had me worried, that's for sure. And I   
try to give her the stuff, and she doesn't want it. And she looks   
me right in the eye and says, 'You're not part of my life!' "  
  
Spike stopped and stared at his beer -- which was dwindling.   
Gah, took the hint and went up to the bar for refills. When he   
got back, Spike was ready to talk again.  
  
"Not part of her life! How could she say that? I've done   
everything for her. I've given up everything I was. I've tried to   
change. But she just looks at me and says 'You're not part of   
my life.' What is there left? If I'm not part of her life I'm   
nothing. She just wiped me out of existence."  
  
"Crush!"  
  
Spike sighed. "No, I don't want to crush her. I want her to be   
happy."  
  
The Fyarl shook his head. "Crush heart!" he said, thumping his   
chest.  
  
"Oh, yeah. She crushed my heart. Yeah."  
  
He stared at the table a bit.  
  
"But I could have taken it. She was so sick. She was out of her   
head. I would have forgiven her. I'd forgive her anything.  
  
"But the next day, after she was better, she comes to my crypt.   
'I just wanted to thank you for your help,' she says. I mean,   
she's standing there thanking me like I was just some stranger   
who helped out. What did she think I was going to do?  
  
"So I tell her I can't go on this way. She's the most important   
thing in my life and she can't see it. And I tell her I'm not going   
to stand for her keeping me hidden any more. She's got to let   
people know about us, or there isn't going to be any us."  
  
Spike sighed again.  
  
"Real!" Gah said.  
  
"Yeah. I'm real. Got real feelings. She can't keep doing this to   
me.  
  
"And she says she wants to tell people, but she isn't ready. And   
I tell her to go. She can come back when she's ready to tell her   
friends.  
  
"She begged me to give her more time. She wants to keep on   
like we've been doing. But I said no. Told her she could have   
all the time she wanted, but there was going to be no lovin'   
until she was ready to go public."  
  
"Strong!" the Fyarl said, thumping the table.  
  
"Yeah, I've been weak. Anything it takes to keep her coming to   
me. Done anything she wanted. But I gotta be strong now. She   
can't just use me that way."  
  
Gah nodded.   
  
"Thing is, I don't know if I'm going to be able to hold out. I   
want her back so bad. What if she decides she can get along   
without me? What if she never comes back?  
  
"It was crap being her dirty secret. But I almost think I'd rather   
have her back that way than go on without..."  
  
Gah reached over and patted him on the shoulder.  
  
"Strong," he said, in as gentle a tone as a Fyarl could produce.  
  
"Thanks, mate. You're OK. But I've got to get out of here.   
Gotta find something to do to get my mind off my troubles."  
  
"Crush! Rip! Tear!" Gah said enthusiastically.  
  
"Yeah, that'd be good. You ever patrolled? I know a cemetery   
that's always lousy with vampires. Want to come along?"  
  
"Thump!"  
  
They got up to leave, just at the jukebox started playing 19th   
Nervous Breakdown again. Spike paused to listen.  
  
**You were still in school when you had that fool who really   
messed your mind  
And after that you turned your back on treating people kind  
On our first trip I tried so hard to rearrange your mind  
But after awhile I realized you were disarranging mine  
  
You better stop, look around  
Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes  
Here comes your nineteenth nervous breakdown  
  
Oh, who's too blame, that girl's just insane  
Well, nothing I do don't seem to work  
It only seems to make matters worse. Oh, please**  
  
"Sing it, Mick," he said. 


	7. Eighteen Hours

Countdown: Eighteen Hours  
By ElsaF  
Spoilers: 24-verse AU, which splits off after Dead Things.  
Summary: This is a sequel to 19th Nervous Breakdown. Spike   
has broken up with Buffy because she won't go public with   
their relationship. It's a few days after 19th Nervous   
Breakdown.  
  
  
Sunday afternoon  
  
Warren worked on the lock on the back door of the First   
Federal Bank of Sunnydale, while Andrew attached the bypass   
to the alarm system and Jonathan kept watch. The alley was   
deserted except for the three young men.  
  
"There! Didn't I tell you it would work?" Warren said   
triumphantly. "My self-adjusting universal lock pick is a   
success." He stood up and gave the unlocked door a quick   
push. It swung open.  
  
"All right!" Andrew exclaimed.   
  
"Get inside before someone sees us!" Jonathan said nervously.  
  
"You're such a scaredy cat!"  
  
"You're such a moron!"  
  
"Midget."  
  
"Penis breath."  
  
"Ladies, I suggest you give up on the cat fight and get in here,"   
Warren said from inside the bank.   
  
----------------  
  
It started to go wrong when Xander Harris spotted his least   
favorite vampire lurking in the shadows at the Bronze. Not that   
he had any most favorite vampires. The main thing that made   
Spike his least favorite was the simple fact that he wasn't   
allowed to stake the bleach-blonde pest. Buffy wouldn't have it.   
OK, Spike was harmless. The chip in his head kept him from   
harming humans. But there were days when he thought it   
would just be easier for everyone if they put the bite-  
challenged vamp out of everyone else's misery.  
  
Xander didn't have any doubt about what Spike was doing   
here. He was keeping tabs on Buffy -- who was having a latte   
with Willow and Tara at a table near the center of the room.   
Xander was on his way back from the men's room to join them   
when he caught a glimpse of platinum hair and black leather.   
Spike was so focused on watching Buffy without being seen   
that he didn't notice Xander circling around to get around   
behind him.  
  
"Time to take a powder, bleach brain." Xander twisted Spike's   
arm behind his back and pushed him up against the pillar he'd   
been hiding behind.  
  
"Hey! Public place. Who died and made you the bloody   
Gestapo?"  
  
"Look, Buffy's been a little down the last couple of days. And   
today she's going to have a nice afternoon out without   
worrying about spying vampires."  
  
"I go where I please, and ... Buffy's been down?"  
  
"Nothing to do with you, I'm sure. You could help though.   
Why don't you go walk out into the sun and burn up. I'm sure   
that would cheer her right up."  
  
"Ha, ha. Why don't you go play with your power tools like a   
good little construction worker?"  
  
"That's it. You're out of here."  
  
"Let go of me -- unless you'd like to go someplace private and   
get personal," Spike sneered.  
  
"You make me sick."  
  
Xander manhandled the vampire toward the back door.  
  
"You can't throw me out there -- daylight -- remember?"  
  
"Oh I remember. I also know that's how you got in. Alley,   
shadows, manhole. So, that's how you're going out."  
  
Xander pushed Spike out into the shaded alley.   
  
"Now get out of here. And if I see you again today, I might   
forget that I'm not supposed to stake you!"  
  
"Oh, I'm so frightened. Oh dear, oh dear. Big bad Xander is   
talking mean to me. Please, someone come save me."  
  
"I swear, Spike, for ten cents I'd..."  
  
"You'd what? You'd try. Don't let this chip in my head fool   
you. If I ever want you dead, you'll..."  
  
"Shut up, Spike."  
  
"Shut up, Spike? That's your snappy rejoinder?"  
  
"No, I mean, shut up. Look..."  
  
Spike looked where Xander was pointing. The back door of the   
First Federal Bank of Sunnydale was ajar, and there was some   
sort of electronic device attached to the alarm box.  
  
"That doesn't look kosher..."  
  
"Probably just someone working on the electrical system. None   
of our business."  
  
"We'd better check it out."  
  
"You'd better check it out. Nothing to do with me. I'll just go   
back inside..."  
  
"In your dreams." Xander grabbed Spike's arm and dragged   
him along as he went through the open bank door.  
  
----------  
  
"I told you I could hack into the timing mechanism," Andrew   
said triumphantly as the vault door swung open.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Jonathan said grudgingly. "We wouldn't have to   
do this if you hadn't got all caught up in that online gambling   
site. Everybody knows those things are rigged."  
  
"I was on a roll!"  
  
"Would you two shut up and start loading up the money? I   
swear, you are the most annoying pair of minions any   
supervillain ever had to put up with."  
  
"Minion? Who's a minion? We're equals!" Andrew said with a   
pout.  
  
"Yeah, right. Just load up the money, Kato."  
  
Jonathan had filled a bag and was headed toward the back door   
when he all but ran straight into Xander and Spike. He stopped   
dead in his tracks and his eyes got big and round.  
  
"Geez!" he exclaimed, dropping his sack and turning to run   
back to Warren and Andrew.  
  
"Andrew, you idiot. You left the door open," he shouted.  
  
"What?"   
  
"People! People inside!"  
  
"Well, well. If it isn't the Witless Wonders. Hold that pose,   
while I call the police," Xander said, pulling his cell phone out   
of his pocket.  
  
Warren rushed forward and tackled him, knocking the phone   
out of his hand and sending it skidding out of reach. Xander   
found himself on the ground with an angry robotics expert   
slamming his head against the tile.  
  
"Spike ... I ... could ... use ... some ... help ... here..."  
  
"What am I supposed to do? Hello... humans. Besides, got ...   
troubles ... of ... my ... own."   
  
Andrew and Jonathan had piled onto him at once, Jonathan   
jumping on his back and Andrew pummeling him from the   
front.   
  
Xander managed to push Warren off and scrambled to his feet,   
but Warren was up faster and got behind him, giving him a   
rough shove toward the vault.   
  
"Get him into the vault!" he shouted to the other two.  
  
Xander, still a little disoriented from the head pounding he'd   
just received, sprawled as Warren tossed him inside. Spike   
resisted, but had little choice but to follow. The door swung   
shut.  
  
Xander sat up holding his head. Spike socked the now closed   
and locked door.  
  
"Now that was pathetic," the vampire said with disgust.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Time for you to learn how to throw a punch," Spike replied   
with disgust.  
  
"No, what time is it?"  
  
"I don't know. You're the one with a watch!"  
  
"Oh... I forgot." Xander looked at his watch. "Three o'clock.   
The bank opens at nine tomorrow. So we're stuck in here for   
the next 18 hours."  
  
"Oh joy. Eighteen hours alone with you. I may have to stake   
myself just to put myself out of my misery."  
  
"I'd do it for you, but I don't think there's anything wooden in   
here."  
  
Spike sat down on the floor, his back against the wall, and   
pulled out his cigarettes.  
  
"Hey, put those away. There's only so much air in here!"  
  
"And I don't breathe any of it, so I'm going to use my share to   
have a smoke."  
  
"No you're not. I'm not going to breathe your second-hand   
smoke for 18 hours."  
  
Spike made a disgusted face and put the cigarettes away.  
  
"I wonder if there's enough air in here..." Xander said,   
sounding a little bit panicked.  
  
"Probably. After all, only one of us breathes."  
  
"Yeah. I guess that makes you a better than average person to   
get trapped in a bank vault with."  
  
Spike just snarled.  
  
"I'm hungry. There's nothing to eat in here."  
  
"Yeah. Too bad I've got this chip in my head. Otherwise, I'd   
have plenty to eat here."  
  
"Bite me."  
  
"Don't think I wouldn't like to."  
  
"Shut up, Spike."  
  
-----------------  
  
4 p.m.  
  
Spike paced the small space. Three steps to the back wall.   
Three steps back to the door. Three steps to the back wall.  
  
"Would you sit down? You're driving me nuts!"  
  
-----------------  
  
5 p.m.  
  
"So, we need another pallet of roof paper, and the Teamsters   
are having a wildcat walkout. And I'm going to have to shut   
down the job if I can't get the materials. But I can't just go pick   
them up myself, because I'll never get another Teamster   
delivery -- ever -- if I do. So I called Tom..."  
  
Spike sat with his knees drawn up, letting Xander's voice go in   
one ear and out the other. He'd lost track of what the other man   
was saying ages ago.  
  
"And Tom says maybe we can get around ... Spike are you   
listening?"  
  
Spike gave him a pitiful look -- and fell over sideways.  
  
"Good, just wanted to make sure you were listening..."  
  
----------------  
  
6 p.m.  
  
"It's not that I don't want to marry Anya. I do. I really do. I'm   
just not ready," Xander said with a sigh.  
  
"You should have had the guts to tell her before the wedding."  
  
"Yeah... I should have. I so know that."  
  
"Can't expect her to just go back to the way things were now."  
  
Xander nodded and looked at the floor.  
  
"You know, it wasn't so much that I didn't want to be with   
Anya, but, well, I haven't had that much experience -- you   
know -- with anybody else. How can I be sure she's the one if   
I've only ever been with one other woman? And that was only   
once."  
  
Spike smirked.   
  
"Oh, don't go all 'I'm not surprised.' I do all right with women. I   
went steady with Cordelia Chase for more than a year in high   
school."  
  
"You and Cordy? Never knew that." Spike looked skeptical.  
  
"Yeah, well the year you were around, we were together, but   
she insisted on keeping it a secret from everyone."  
  
"Oh... yeah. I know how that goes."  
  
"But you only shagged her once?"  
  
"Never. That was ... someone else. No -- third base, but no   
homeruns with Cordy."  
  
"Well, if its any comfort to you, she's not getting any now   
either."  
  
"What do you mean? What do you know about Cordy?"  
  
"She's down in LA with Angel -- you know -- Mr. I-can't-shag-   
or-I-turn-evil."  
  
"What? She's just working for him. It isn't anything..."  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You're kidding..."  
  
----------------  
  
7 p.m.  
  
"You said the Slayer was down. What's she down about?"  
  
"None of your business."  
  
"Just trying to make conversation."  
  
"I don't know, anyway. She wouldn't say. I went over to her   
place a couple of days ago and she was crying her eyes out. But   
she wouldn't tell me what the trouble was. And I don't think   
she's smiled since."  
  
Spike sighed.  
  
"You really should get a girlfriend. Something to keep your   
mind off Buffy," Xander said, not unkindly.  
  
"Had one -- for a while. Broke up a couple of days ago."  
  
"Oh, so that's why you're back to stalking Buffy?"  
  
Spike shrugged.  
  
"How come I never saw you with this girlfriend?"  
  
"She didn't like being seen with me. Not respectable enough, I   
guess."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
----------------  
  
8 p.m.  
  
"So, I'm curious. What was Harmony like?"  
  
"She about drove me around the bend. Never shut up."  
  
"I mean... in the sack. The guys back in school -- you know, in   
the locker room -- they used to say..."  
  
Spike frowned. "Forget it. I don't talk about women that way."  
  
"Oh, suddenly you're Mr. Proper..."  
  
"It's not right!" Spike said with surprising vehemence. "You   
ask a woman to trust you, to be intimate with you, then you   
turn it into a smutty joke and blab it to any guy who will listen.   
Well, not me. Forget it."  
  
"Sorry... didn't realize you felt that way..."  
  
---------------  
  
9 p.m.  
  
"So, this girl who wouldn't be seen with you -- why'd you put   
up with that?"  
  
Spike sighed. "Because being with her was good enough that it   
was worth putting up with it."  
  
"Why'd you break up?"  
  
"I was tired of putting up with it."  
  
--------------  
  
10 p.m.  
  
"I'm hungry."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
--------------  
  
11 p.m.  
  
"You think if I bought Anya something really nice, she'd   
forgive me?"  
  
"Oh, right. You totally humiliated her in front of every being   
who means anything to her in the universe -- but if you give   
her a nice necklace, she'll be fine."  
  
"Guess not."  
  
"Give her some space. If you two were really meant to be   
together, once the hurt starts to heal, things will work out."  
  
"Advice to the lovelorn, from a vampire."  
  
"If you didn't want my opinion, why'd you ask?"  
  
"Just making conversation."  
  
"Well don't. I like the tense, loathing silences a lot better."  
  
"Suit yourself."  
  
-------------------  
  
12 a.m.  
  
"You going to try to make up with mystery girl?"  
  
"If I can."  
  
"Apologize, steal some flowers for her?"  
  
"In a minute -- if she'll agree to stop being mystery girl."  
  
------------------  
  
1 a.m.  
  
"Maybe I'll go back and tell Anya I'm willing to get married,   
but we need to be engaged for a while longer."  
  
"Oh, right. She's going to go for that."  
  
"Maybe she will."  
  
"In your dreams."  
  
"Like you're the great authority on women. You and your   
invisible girlf..." Xander stopped and his eyes got wide.  
  
"Know more than you'll ever know about women, mate."  
  
"Spike... that time when Buffy went invisible..."  
  
Spike gave him a wary look. "What about it?"  
  
"When I came by your place..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Buffy was there, wasn't she?"  
  
Spike looked shocked. "No! Of course not. No!"  
  
"You're lying."  
  
"Bugger off."  
  
"Oh God. No. I don't even want to think about it. Your filthy   
hands on her. You bastard! I swear I'm going to kill you when   
we get out of here." He grabbed Spike by the shoulders. "Don't   
you ever..."  
  
Spike batted his hands away. "Get out of my face. I told you.   
She wasn't there."  
  
"No? Then who is your mystery girlfriend?"  
  
"I'm not going to tell. I promised to keep it a secret. When she's   
ready to tell -- then OK. Not before."  
  
"It's Buffy. You broke up a couple days ago. She was crying a   
couple of days ago. The last couple of months she keeps   
disappearing for hours. Nobody knows where she goes. It was   
you. It was you all along!"  
  
Spike looked away. "No comment."  
  
"As soon as I get my hands on a stake, you are so dead. You   
took advantage of her!"  
  
"Harris, look, I'm not admitting anything here. But just say, for   
argument's sake, my mystery girlfriend was the Slayer. Do you   
honestly think there's any way I could take advantage of her?   
She's the Slayer, for Christ's sake. If I did anything, she could   
kill me in a heartbeat."  
  
"Not physically. Emotionally. She's been so depressed..."  
  
"Oh, you mean, she's been so depressed since you and your   
little friends ripped her out of heaven because you were too   
cowardly to go on without her here to protect you? And it's my   
fault if I try to be a friend, and listen to her when she talks   
about how betrayed she feels? And I'm a really, really bad   
person if I keep her confidences and don't report back to the   
people who did it to her?"  
  
"You son of a bitch. I don't need a stake. I'm going to tear your   
head off..."  
  
"Give it your best shot, pillock."  
  
"Oh, God. I can't do this. I can't know this. It makes me sick."  
  
"Right. It's all my fault. You had nothing to do with it. You're   
just a victim..."  
  
"Shut up. Just shut up."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
--------------------  
  
2 a.m.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Why'd you do it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Break up with her?"  
  
"It wasn't her."  
  
"Why'd you do it?"  
  
"None of your business."  
  
"Come on..."  
  
"I've got as much right as anybody to be treated like a person."  
  
"You're not a person. You're a vampire."  
  
"I'm not a human. But I am a person."  
  
"Debatable."  
  
-------------  
  
3 a.m.  
  
"Harris, wake up. You're snoring."  
  
"What?"  
  
"There. That's better."  
  
------------  
  
4 a.m.  
  
"I can't sleep on this floor. It's killing my back."  
  
"Not my problem, mate."  
  
"So, why won't you admit it was Buffy?"  
  
"Whoever the lady was, I'm not going to say anything until she   
says it's OK."  
  
"I don't get you. Chivalry. More than a hundred years of   
murder and mayhem, and you're still trying to protect a   
woman's reputation."  
  
"I'm evil, mate, not an asshole."  
  
------------  
  
5 a.m.  
  
"I can't believe Buffy would have slept with you."  
  
"Then don't believe it. I told you it wasn't her."  
  
"Yeah, and I believed you so much."  
  
"What business of yours is it anyway. Buffy's a grown woman.   
She can make her own choices."  
  
"She's my friend. I don't want to see her get hurt."  
  
"You're all together too interested in her love life, if you ask   
me. She never tried to get you to stop seeing Demon Girl, did   
she?"  
  
"That was different."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I'm a man. I can..."  
  
"You can make your own decisions, but she's got to let you   
make hers for her?"  
  
"No... it's just..."  
  
"Give it a rest, mate. It's none of your business."  
  
------------  
  
6 a.m.  
  
"Well, at least it's over. She'll never go back to you."  
  
"That's up to her. Not you, not me."  
  
"I won't let her."  
  
"And you're going to stop her how?"  
  
"I don't know. I'll talk her out of it."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "I've come all over terrified..."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"You shut up."  
  
"Why'd I have to get stuck in here with you?"  
  
"Because you're an idiot who didn't think to try to call the   
police until after we were inside."  
  
"Don't try to blame this on me."  
  
"Oh, right. It's my fault. Everything is. This, Buffy, the   
economy and the Chicago fire..."  
  
"Did you have anything to do with the Chicago fire?"  
  
"Oh, please... I was 15 years old, and hadn't ever been out of   
London in 1871."  
  
-----------  
  
7 a.m.  
  
"When you were with Buffy..."  
  
"I told you. It wasn't Buffy."  
  
"OK, just hypothetically saying if you'd been with Buffy..."  
  
"Give it a rest."  
  
----------  
  
8 a.m.  
  
"Not long now. They'll open up the vault before they open the   
bank at nine."  
  
"Yeah... At last, I'll be able to get away from you."  
  
"I'm just trying to think of what I'm going to say to Buffy next   
time I see her."  
  
"You're going to say nothing. You hear me, Harris? Nothing at   
all. She's got enough to worry about without having to look at   
you and think about what you're imagining she did with me. Be   
a man for once. Think about what she's feeling instead of   
yourself, for a change."  
  
"I guess you're right."  
  
-----------  
  
8:45 a.m.  
  
The lock on the vault clicked as the timing mechanism hit its   
"unlock" point. The door swung out slowly.  
  
"Come out with your hands up," said a voice from outside.   
"This is the police. You're under arrest."  
  
"You don't understand," Xander said plaintively. "We're not the   
robbers. We were trying to stop the robbery. The real thieves   
locked us in here."  
  
"You'll have to come down to the station and make a statement,   
sir."  
  
"Oh bugger," Spike said with a frown. "Now I get to spend all   
day answering questions from Sunnydale's finest. I'll probably   
miss, Passions. I blame you for this, Harris..." 


	8. Highway 17

Countdown: Highway 17  
By ElsaF  
Spoilers: Through mid-Season 5  
Disclaimer: Bad Sir Brian Botany is by A.A. Milne, better   
known for his Winnie the Pooh stories. All other characters   
are property of Mutant Enemy.  
Summary: Forget the summary. Read the story.   
  
  
Out on Highway 17, there is no past and no future. Only the   
dark, and the pavement, and the air pulling at your body, and   
the curves that make you lean over and work against gravity   
to keep the bike on the road. There is the roar of the engine   
between your legs and the woman's arms wrapped around   
your waist, holding on for dear life, her warm body pressed   
against your back.  
  
Highway 17 is cresting a hill and going airborne for a moment   
and bouncing back down on the pavement with a solid thump.   
And the way her arms tighten around you at that moment. And   
it's easy to forget all the pain and humiliation and frustration.   
That's what Highway 17 is all about. That's why he comes out   
here. That's why he brings her with him.  
  
-----------------  
  
Spike twisted the throttle and urged the bike to give up a bit   
more speed. The broken line in the middle of the road merged   
into a solid white stripe and the telephone poles and fence   
posts blurred into a surreal smear to either side.  
  
The engine screamed. They crested another hill and started the   
serpentine decent into the next valley, the tilt on each tight   
curve making her cling to him harder. He could feel her heart   
beating frantically. And it was rewarding to know that it was   
exhilaration, not terror that made her heart race so.  
  
They climbed another slope, the engine straining with each   
segment of the twisting climb, then broke out into the   
moonlight as the road followed the contour of a cliff over the   
ocean.  
  
Spike eased off the throttle and onto the brakes. They stopped   
in a pullout with a panoramic view of the sky and the Pacific.   
There was a picnic table beside the small parking area, and a   
trash barrel.  
  
Spike got off the bike and held out his hand to his lady.  
  
She took off her helmet and shook out her auburn hair. Joyce   
Summers smiled and accepted his help dismounting.  
  
------------  
  
A bottle of red wine and two plastic cups. A cool breeze off   
the ocean. They sat opposite one another under a canopy of   
stars.  
  
"This is beautiful, Spike. Thank you for bringing me up here."  
  
"I was surprised you agreed to come. I mean after ... what   
happened."  
  
"After what you did. Let's be honest. It didn't just happen."  
  
"Yeah... what I did." Spike looked embarrassed. The moon   
was full, and the light it shed was bright enough that Joyce   
could see his face clearly. He was avoiding her eyes.  
  
"What you did was wrong. Very wrong. But, nobody got hurt.   
And if there's anything I've come to accept these last few   
years, it's that my eldest daughter can take care of herself. I'm   
not thrilled by what you did. But, I think you're the one who's   
going to suffer the most for it."  
  
"Yeah, I am. Bloody stupid. Should have known better.   
Should have forgot what time it was and wandered out into   
the sun. Should have ..."  
  
"Enough, Spike. You screwed up. It's over now. You're going   
to have to live with the consequences. But it doesn't do any   
good to keep berating yourself."  
  
"And you're still being nice to me. Nobody else is, you know.   
Not even the Little Bit."  
  
Joyce smiled. "It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it."  
  
Spike laughed.  
  
"One thing to give me hot chocolate with little marshmallows   
in your kitchen. Still surprised you'd come out here with me."  
  
"What can I say? These last few months have been hard. And   
despite last week's little, um... problem ... you've been a help. I   
feel better knowing you're looking out for us. And, to tell the   
truth, there are moments in a woman's life when the idea of   
riding off on the back of a motorcycle with a vampire is, well,   
tempting." She let out a nervous laugh.   
  
"My illness. This business with Glory. Dawn. Seeing Buffy in   
college, and stretched to her limits. Not really being able to   
help her. I don't really know how to put it, but I've been   
feeling so -- old."  
  
"Old? You're not old!"  
  
"Yes I am. I'm matronly. You like me because I remind you of   
your mother."  
  
"No, I like you because you always treat me like a person,   
Joyce. You think my feelings count. You expect me to be   
good, and you're disappointed when I fu... screw up.   
Everybody else -- well, they're surprised when I don't."  
  
"Admit it," Joyce said with a chuckle. "I also remind you of   
your mom."  
  
"My mum? She was short, and round, and she'd go off on me   
for hours if I was late coming home. Oh, don't get the wrong I   
idea, I loved her. She was the center of my world. But she   
wasn't anything like you.  
  
"My mum wasn't an auburn-haired beauty. She didn't have a   
smile that lights up rooms. She didn't have gorgeous hazel   
eyes. And she'd be a screaming bundle of nerves if anybody   
had taken her on a ride like you had coming up here. She   
didn't have a warrior princess' heart like you do."  
  
"Spike, you're flirting with me. Shame on you!" Joyce said,   
glad that in the moonlight, her blush wouldn't be so obvious.  
  
"Well, it's all true!" he insisted. "There's fire in you, Joyce.   
That's where your girls get it."  
  
"You're very nice. But I know perfectly well you're only really   
interested in Buffy."  
  
"Not true. Oh, I love Buffy. I can't help it. I can't seem to stop   
wanting her. Makes me do idiotic things. But that doesn't   
mean I don't care about you -- or the Little Bit, for that matter.   
I think the three of you come as a package. I couldn't possibly   
love Buffy without loving you and Dawn. There's too much of   
you in them. You smell the same. You make the same little   
noise in your throat when you're peeved. You hold your head   
the same way when you're wondering what's going on."  
  
"But I'm still the middle-aged one."  
  
Spike laughed. "I'm almost 150 years old, Joyce. Believe me,   
the difference between 20 and 40 isn't that much."   
  
Joyce smiled shook her head. "I really shouldn't like you the   
way I do, Spike. You're a vampire, and you're obsessed with   
my daughter. No good can come of that. You realize that don't   
you?"  
  
"Yeah. I do. And I know Buffy'll never love me the way I love   
her. Especially after my little lapse of judgment..."  
  
"I never liked Angel," Joyce said quietly. "But I accepted that   
there was nothing I could do about him. If Buffy wanted to be   
with him, she was going to, and my objections weren't going   
to make any difference."  
  
"That why you put up with me, then?"  
  
"No. I can't explain it. But I've always liked you, Spike. I can't   
say I'd be pleased if Buffy suddenly changed her mind and   
wanted to be with you. But, leaving Buffy completely out of   
it, I've got to say that there's just something about you ...   
you're sweet."  
  
"Oh, stop. I'll have to go game face on you to show you I'm   
still bad."  
  
"You're Sir Brian," Joyce said with a laugh.  
  
Spike looked puzzled. "Who?"  
  
"Bad Sir Brian Botany," Joyce said.  
  
Spike started to laugh. "Give me a break!"  
  
"Sir Brian had a battleaxe with great big knobs on.  
"He went among the villagers and blipped them on the head.  
"On Wednesday and on Saturday,  
"Especially on the latter day,  
"He called on all the cottages and this is what he said:  
  
"I am Sir Brian!" (Ting-ling!)  
"I am Sir Brian!" (Rat-tat!)  
"I am Sir Brian,  
"As bold as a lion!  
"Take that, and that, and that!"  
  
"Thanks a lot, Joyce. I know how that poem ends, you know."  
  
He cleared his throat.  
  
"Sir Brian woke one morning and he couldn't find his   
battleaxe.  
"He walked into the village in his second pair of boots.  
"He had gone a hundred paces  
"When the street was full of faces  
"And the villagers were round him with ironical salutes.  
  
"You are Sir Brian? My, my.  
"You are Sir Brian? Dear, dear.  
"You are Sir Brian  
"As bold as a lion?  
"Delighted to meet you here!"  
  
Joyce grinned and took over for the last verses.  
  
"Sir Brian went a journey and he found a lot of duckweed.  
"They pulled him out and dried him and they blipped him on   
the head.  
"They took him by the breeches  
"And they hurled him into ditches   
"And they pushed him under waterfalls and this is what they   
said:  
  
"You are Sir Brian -- don't laugh!  
"You are Sir Brian -- don't cry!  
"You are Sir Brian  
"As bold as a lion --  
"Sir Brian the Lion, goodbye!"  
  
"Sir Brian struggled home again and chopped up his battleaxe.  
"Sir Brian took his fighting boots and threw them in the fire.  
"He is quite a different person  
"Now he hasn't got his spurs on,  
"And he goes about the village as B. Botany, Esquire.  
  
"I am Sir Brian? Oh, no!  
"I am Sir Brian? Who's he?  
"I haven't any title, I'm Botany;  
"Plain Mr. Botany (B.)"  
  
"I should be very insulted now," Spike said with a laugh.   
"They may have put this chip in my head, but I haven't turned   
into a pansy."  
  
"No," Joyce said seriously, "I think you're still bold as a lion.   
You're our protector. Our guardian. It's just that Sir Brian   
having to give up his evil ways makes me think of you.  
  
"I used to read that poem to Buffy when she was little. There   
was a time when we were afraid she was turning into a bit of a   
bully. She was always stronger than the other children -- not   
slayer strength -- but she was very athletic as a child. And she   
got sent home from nursery school a couple of times for   
getting too rough. One of the teachers suggested that poem to   
teach her about using her strength wisely. She liked it and I   
read it to her so many times that I ended up memorizing it."  
  
Joyce looked at him with a little twinkle in her eye. "But I   
wouldn't have expected you to read a lot of Winnie the Pooh."  
  
"Believe it or not, when the book was first published --   
sometime in the '20s, Dru found a copy on somebody she ...   
well never mind. She loved the book and I used to read the   
poems to her. That one was from one of the poetry collections.   
She liked the Pooh books too."  
  
Joyce shook her head. "You've lived a very strange life,   
Spike."  
  
"Yeah, I have."  
  
"We should go back. Buffy will wonder what happened to   
me."  
  
"Oh, forget Buffy for a little while. Like you said. She'll take   
care of herself."  
  
"Forget Buffy? Are you ready to forget Buffy?"  
  
"For tonight, maybe," he said with an ironic smile. "Want to   
go dancing, Joyce?"  
  
"Dancing?"  
  
"There's a road house just a little farther down that way. I   
guarantee you won't feel matronly there."  
  
"Not the sort of place a mother of two young ladies would   
go?"  
  
"Not at all. I'm sure you wouldn't be caught dead there. Very   
rough. The food is greasy. The music is loud and country. The   
crowd is disreputable."  
  
"And you want to take me there?"  
  
"Yeah. And I certainly wouldn't want to be seen there with   
anyone matronly..."  
  
"What am I going to tell Buffy?"  
  
"Don't tell her. Tell her you had a date with a guy named   
Brian."  
  
-------------------  
  
Highway 17 is a place to be someone you're not. To forget   
what's wrong and live a little bit of what's right. He   
remembered that night for a long time. Last time he saw   
Joyce. Giving her a little kiss on the cheek when he brought   
her home long after her girls were in bed. Watching the light   
go on in the kitchen, then off again. Then the light in the hall,   
then the light in her bedroom. He stood outside the house he   
couldn't enter, and watched until the last light went off and he   
knew Joyce was in bed.   
  
And the next morning he visited a flower shop he could get to   
through the sewers and a well-shaded alley. He bought some   
flowers and had them sent to Revello Drive. He enclosed a   
card.   
  
"Thank you for the lovely evening. See you soon? Brian."  
  
And he always wondered whether she saw them, before she   
died. 


	9. Sweet Sixteen

Countdown: Sweet Sixteen  
By ElsaF  
Rating: G  
Spoilers: Through the end of S6. This is still pre-S7, though.  
Summary: It's Dawn's Sixteenth Birthday  
  
"Happy Birthday, Dawn," Xander said, handing her a brightly   
wrapped package. "Hope you like it!"  
  
"Thanks," the teenager said with a happy smile.  
  
She led him inside to the living room, where Buffy and Anya   
were already seated. Xander chose the chair farthest from   
Anya and sat down.  
  
"Everybody's here. Why don't you start opening your   
presents?" Buffy suggested.  
  
"Sure!"  
  
Dawn started with the box from her sister. She tore off the   
roses and ribbons wrapping paper and found a Gap box inside.   
  
"Oh! I bet this is the argyle-pattern sweater I saw when we   
were at the mall last week!" she said with a giggle.   
  
"Got it in one!" Buffy replied with a smile.  
  
"Thanks. I love it. And if it wasn't 90 degrees out today, I'd go   
put it on right now!"  
  
"That's OK. You can wear it after school starts in the fall."  
  
She picked up Xander's present next. The clowns and balloons   
wrapping paper fell in a crumpled heap on the floor.  
  
"Oh! This is so nice. A jewelry box -- for all that jewelry I had   
to give back."  
  
"I'm sure you'll get some more -- the legal way -- sooner or   
later, Dawn," Xander replied. "Happy birthday."  
  
"Did you make this?" She ran her hands over sunrise motif   
carved into the lid, and opened it up to find the interior   
divided into little red velvet-lined compartments -- some small   
for earrings, others larger for necklaces and bracelets.  
  
Xander nodded.  
  
"I love the carving on the lid. It's so pretty. And look at all the   
dividers inside. It's really nice. Thanks!"  
  
Anya's present was last. It was a little box. Dawn picked it up   
and shook it.  
  
"I bet this is something to go in my new jewelry box."  
  
Anya grinned.  
  
Dawn peeled off the gold foil wrapping paper and opened the   
little white box inside.  
  
"Oh! These are beautiful!"  
  
There was a pair of pearl teardrop earrings nestled on white   
cotton inside.  
  
"They're not new," Anya said, sounding a little bit   
embarrassed. "I'm afraid I've had to economize a bit since I   
don't have any money coming in from the shop anymore."  
  
"That's OK," Dawn said with a little smile. "It's the thought   
that counts."  
  
"Is it? Really?"  
  
"Shall we have some cake?" Buffy said brightly.  
  
"Yeah! Cake!" Dawn chirped.   
  
Buffy brought out the triple-layer chocolate fudge cake with   
16 candles arranged in a circle on top.  
  
"OK, light 'er up!" she said as she set it on the coffee table.   
"Who's got a match?"  
  
Xander patted his pockets. "Sorry..."  
  
"Well, I certainly don't smoke," Anya said self-righteously.   
"Cigarettes are expensive and unhealthy."  
  
"It's OK," Buffy replied. "I have some matches in the   
kitchen."  
  
When she returned, the determined cheerfulness of the party   
had stalled, and seemed to be about to auger in for a crash and   
burn. Xander and Anya were trying to ignore one another, and   
Dawn stared glumly at the decidedly not burning candles.  
  
"Hey, smiles all around!" Buffy said brightly. "This is a   
birthday party, not a funeral."  
  
"Yeah, had enough of those," Dawn said, blinking back tears.  
  
"Oh, sorry honey. Bad choice of words. Come on. Let's try to   
cheer up. You only turn sixteen once."  
  
Dawn nodded and swallowed hard.   
  
Buffy lit the candles. "OK, all together: Happy birthday to   
you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Dawnie.   
Happy birthday to you."  
  
Three voices do not the Mormon Tabernacle Choir make, but   
Buffy, Xander and Anya tried anyway. The result was loud, if   
not harmonious.  
  
"Blow out the candles!" Buffy said brightly.   
  
Dawn took a deep breath and blew, extinguishing about half   
the flames. She stopped and looked sad.  
  
"No matter. You get a second chance because -- because I say   
so."  
  
Dawn took another breath, but stopped before blowing again.  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just can't do this," she said,   
getting up and bolting for the stairs, wiping away her tears as   
she ran.  
  
"Dawn!" Buffy called after her.  
  
Xander looked at the floor. "I guess we're not doing so well on   
the make Dawn happy on her birthday front," he said.  
  
"I really thought it would be better this year. Last year we   
were all sad because you were dead," Anya added. "But then,   
last year, we had a lot more people to pretend to be cheerful."  
  
"Looks like Dawn's in for the night," Xander said glumly. "I   
guess I'll push off."  
  
Buffy nodded, looking up the stairs.  
  
"I'll just wait for Xander to go, so we won't be leaving   
together," Anya said. "Then I'll go too."  
  
"Thanks for coming, guys," Buffy said. "I suppose it could   
have been worse. It could have been my birthday."  
  
----------------  
  
Buffy knocked on Dawn's bedroom door.  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
That was a good sign. She'd pretty much expected to be told to   
go away.   
  
Dawn was lying on her stomach on her bed. The teenager   
slipped something under her pillow as Buffy came in.  
  
"Want to talk about it? Brought you some cake. You know   
what Mom used to say: 'Nothing kills the blues like triple-  
layer fudge cake.'"  
  
Dawn attempted a smile, but it never spread beyond the   
corners of her mouth. "Not much to say. Sorry I messed up the   
party."  
  
"That's OK. I think it was pretty messed up to start with when   
the only two people I could think of to invite aren't speaking   
to each other. Too bad Janice and her family are off to Grand   
Canyon. At least you would have had someone to talk to."  
  
Dawn sat up and took the dessert plate from her sister.  
  
"It's so sad to look around and see all the people who aren't   
here," Dawn said around a fork full of cake. "Well, you know   
what I mean. I miss Tara. She was so funny last year. She kept   
teasing Willow about the cake -- which wasn't near this good   
by the way. This is Mom's recipe, isn't it?"  
  
Buffy nodded. "Yeah, Duncan Hines cake mix and two tubs of   
Betty Crocker frosting. Not so sophisticated, but it gets the job   
done."  
  
"And Giles was here. And he and Willow played this joke on   
Xander and Anya." Dawn stopped and looked sad again.  
  
"And now I don't even know if I want Willow to come back."  
  
"I know, honey. I don't know either. We'll just have to deal   
with that when the time comes."  
  
"And Giles got in an argument with..." She didn't finish.  
  
"He who cannot be named?" Buffy offered with an ironic   
smile. "The elephant who is not in the room?"  
  
Dawn nodded.  
  
"How about this," Buffy said. "I'll break the rule. I'll say it.   
Spike."  
  
"Why'd he do it, Buffy?" Dawn whispered.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "If I only knew that, Dawnie..." She   
stopped and sighed. "No, that's a lie. I know," she said quietly,   
looking at her hands folded in her lap.  
  
"You know how sometimes when someone wants to talk to   
you and you don't want to listen to them, they just keep   
talking louder? Well, Spike had been trying to get me to listen   
for a while, and I wouldn't, and finally ..."  
  
"Oh, Buffy. That is so bogus. You can't blame yourself. That   
isn't the way people talk to each other."  
  
"No, it's not the way regular people talk to each other. But I   
wasn't acting like regular people last spring. And Spike -- well   
he hasn't been a regular person for more than a century."  
  
"You can't blame yourself," Dawn said firmly.   
  
"I don't. Not really. There's no excuse for what he did. But,   
even so, I don't think it would have happened if I'd treated him   
better. People tend to live up to what you expect of them,   
honey. And I'd been letting Spike know I didn't expect   
anything good from him." She brushed a strand of hair away   
from Dawn's face.  
  
"But you were right to think he couldn't do anything good. I   
thought he really cared about us. I thought he cared about me.   
But all he wanted was ..."  
  
"That's not true. I really believe he cared about you, Dawnie.   
And I don't think it was because he wanted to sleep with me.   
You were always special for him."  
  
"Then why'd he run away?"  
  
"I think you underestimate how intimidating it is for a   
vampire to face a cheesed-off Slayer," Buffy said with an   
ironic smile.  
  
"Spike's never been afraid of Slayers! He wouldn't run away   
because he was afraid."  
  
"But he might because he was ashamed," Buffy said softly.  
  
"If he ever comes back I'll kill him," Dawn said bitterly. "I   
hope he never shows his face here again."  
  
"Honey... Don't say that. You're disappointed, I know. But   
you're going to feel so much better when you let go and   
forgive."  
  
"How can I? How can you?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I don't know if I can or if I do. Not yet. I just   
wish he was here, so I could find out. I wonder what became   
of him. Is he still alive? Did something happen to him? Will   
he ever come back?"  
  
"He'd better not," Dawn said with a frown.  
  
Buffy smiled. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,   
OK?"  
  
Dawn nodded. "I'd better take this plate down to the kitchen   
before it grows fur," she said. She took the now-empty cake   
plate and headed for the stairs.  
  
Buffy waited until she was out of sight, then reached under the   
pillow.  
  
What she found there was a well-worn piece of sketch paper,   
folded in half to approximate a greeting card. On the front was   
a sketch that was easily recognizable as Dawn. Buffy smiled.   
She'd forgotten that he could draw. The only evidence she'd   
ever seen was the sketches of herself he'd had pinned up on   
the shrine in his lower crypt. They disappeared after that one   
time she'd been down there when Drusilla was in town.  
  
She opened up the card. Inside was written: "Happy 15th   
Nibblet. -- Spike"  
  
She slipped it back under the pillow and went downstairs to   
help with the dishes. 


	10. Fifteen Minutes

Countdown: Fifteen Minutes  
By ElsaF  
Spoilers: S6 through Dead Things, then off into the "24-verse"  
Summary: In the 24-verse, Buffy apologized for the Dead   
Things beating. She also let Spike explain what was going on   
with the demon eggs in As You Were. But even though they   
didn't break up in AYW, a little while later Spike told Buffy he   
didn't want to be her dirty secret anymore, so they have broken   
up anyway.  
  
  
  
  
They were all the same. Exactly. The same weight, the same   
thickness, the same color. And that was disturbing. Beef   
shouldn't be the same color as chicken, should it? They could   
at least put some artificial color in to make the beef patty look   
like beef, couldn't they?   
  
Buffy watched the slicer. The Doublemeat (TM) patties fell off   
with a steady rhythm. It was soothing. It made the time pass.   
She could stand here and watch the patented processed meat   
product fall onto the tray with one wet slap after another, and   
time became meaningless -- until someone tapped her on the   
shoulder and said, "You've got a customer."  
  
"Can I help you?" she said as she pasted on her patented   
processed meat product smile and poised her finger over the   
buttons on the point of purchase fulfillment input terminal.  
  
"Buffy! It's me!"  
  
Buffy snapped out of her patented processed meat product   
trance and realized she was looking straight at Willow.  
  
"Oh! Willow!"  
  
"Look, I'll order a milk shake, they don't put any beef fat in   
those, do they? That way you won't get in trouble, right?"  
  
"Far as I know, they don't put beef fat in the shakes. But   
knowing this place, they probably don't put any dairy products   
in them either. What flavor?"  
  
"Um... chocolate. That sounds safe. Anyway, what I came by   
to tell you -- I think I've got a line on your nemis-sis-isis,"   
Willow said with a bright smile.  
  
Buffy went to the shake machine and returned with something   
thick and gray in a cup.  
  
"You think so?" she said listlessly.  
  
"Yeah! Boy are they dumb! I couldn't believe it. It was so   
easy."  
  
"So what did they do?"  
  
"They stole Xander's cell phone!" Willow was all but bouncing   
up and down with enthusiasm. "And they've been using it!"  
  
"Oh? Does that help?"  
  
"Of course is does. I can trace it! I can triangulate off the   
towers receiving the signal and get a location within a few feet.   
I've hacked into his provider's network, and all we have to do is   
keep monitoring his phone's I.D. and the next time they make a   
call, we've got them!"  
  
"Really? Gee, that's good, Will."  
  
"I thought you'd be really happy..."  
  
"Oh... I am. That's great. It's just... I guess I'm a little under the   
weather."  
  
"Maybe you should ask for the rest of the night off, if you're   
not feeling well..."  
  
"Nope. Robo-Buffy stays on the job. I'm out of sick days," she   
said with a roll of her eyes. "Riley's little adventure -- it's going   
to be a while before I can take any time off again."  
  
"Bummer... what if there's urgent slaying to be done?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Doesn't seem to have been much urgent   
slaying lately..."  
  
Willow frowned. "Doesn't mean there won't be."  
  
Buffy shrugged again. "Don't let me bring you down. I've got   
them patented-processed-meat-product blues. I'm glad you've   
got a line on Warren, et al. And I'm glad you're feeling   
empowered."  
  
"It's not just empowerment," Willow said, leaning over the   
counter to speak in confidence. "I've been having a really good   
day. I mean really good. Tara and I went out for coffee   
yesterday, and it went really, really well. And we're going to   
the Bronze tonight -- in fact, she's waiting out in the car."   
  
"Oh! Willow! That's wonderful. It really is. I'm happy it's   
working out for you."   
  
"I'm happy too. But I'm not going to shirk my duty. We're   
going back to the house, and I've got my computer set up with   
an alarm that will go off if there's a phone call. We'll keep it   
with us. And if they use they phone -- we've got 'em!"  
  
Buffy took Willow's money and closed out the sale.  
  
"You have a good time. Good luck!"  
  
Willow grinned. "If you're wondering whether I'm going to get   
lucky -- I already have." She winked at Buffy and headed for   
the door, a distinct bounce in her step.  
  
Buffy turned away from the counter, blinking back tears.   
Willow's appearance had broken through the Doublemeat   
trance. The pain was back. Willow was happy. She was in love.   
She was doing useful things -- successfully. Damn. Why can't I   
have any of that?  
  
She felt a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"You all right, Buffy?" Lorraine asked.  
  
Buffy nodded.   
  
"Why don't you take your break now," the manager suggested.   
"Fifteen minutes of fresh air might do you some good."  
  
Right, everybody knows Buffy usually doesn't take her breaks   
in the break room. She'd made the excuse that the place   
smelled of smoke, that she liked to go out back for the fresh   
air. How many times had she made that excuse? It wasn't fresh   
air that drew her to the alley -- there was no stretch of the   
imagination that made the air next to that dumpster fresh.   
  
No, it was Spike that made her breaks worth waiting for.   
Waiting next to the trash bin. Black duster, black jeans,   
insolent expression, gentle hands, gentle kisses, lifting her up,   
pressing her against the wall... A 15-minute break, but he'd   
always managed to make the very best use of that quarter hour,   
and she always went back inside feeling a little bit more alive.  
  
Buffy shook her head. No more of that. It was over. He   
wouldn't be there. Not any more. No more 15-minute trips to   
paradise.  
  
She stepped out into the cool dark thinking of Willow. She'd   
had the courage to let everyone know she loved another   
woman. There was probably someone, somewhere snickering   
and calling her friend a dyke. But did it matter?  
  
"'Evenin', pet."  
  
"Spike!"  
  
He was leaning against the dumpster, just as he always did, one   
thumb hooked in his belt, the fingers pointing down toward --   
what she really shouldn't be staring at.  
  
"Ran into Red and Glinda 'round front. Good news about the   
phone."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Just thought I'd stop by and see if maybe you'd given our last   
talk any more thought..."  
  
Buffy's expression hardened.  
  
"I don't react well to ultimatums," she said firmly.  
  
"Yeah, me neither. But look at it this way, love. I never meant   
it as an ultimatum. That's when you try to bluff someone into   
doing what you want. This is just -- it's just the way it is. I'm   
not bluffing."  
  
"Right, no bluff. You're just telling me I have to do what you   
want or you won't do what I want."  
  
"Listen to me, Buffy. I love you. You are everything to me.   
You're my whole world. You're everything I need and   
everything I desire. But, what I want -- I can't have what I want   
if I'm not good enough to be seen with you. So if that's the   
shape of it, better break it off now. I can't go on this way. I   
can't go on living near you, touching you, holding you, and   
knowing that I'm nothing to you but a self-powered sex toy.   
The kind you keep hidden under your bed so people won't   
know you like to have it off when you're by yourself.  
  
"I'm done with being alone when I'm with you."  
  
"Why did you come here tonight?"  
  
"Just what I said. I wondered if you'd given it any thought."  
  
"Look, Spike. I think we need to talk. But I don't think we can   
cover it in 15 minutes. I care about you. I really do. Love? I   
don't know. I'm just starting to feel like I'm alive. I think I'm   
starting to feel -- but I need more time. I've got to figure out   
what I'm supposed to be doing back here -- in this world. Can't   
you see? It's too much right now."  
  
"I'll wait as long as you want. If you want to talk, I'll listen   
until my ears fall off. I'll watch your back. Help your friends.   
Look after your sister. But don't ask me to be your lover if you   
think so little of me that you won't be seen with me. I'm not a   
motorized dildo."  
  
"Is that how you think I see you?"  
  
"What am I supposed to think? You never had a problem with   
being seen with Angel."  
  
"That was different. I was different then."  
  
"And Angel was different, right?"  
  
"Angel has a soul..."  
  
"Right, and he keeps it down in LA where you can't get to it   
and kill it, doesn't he," Spike said bitterly.  
  
Buffy drew back. The anger in his voice stung her like a slap to   
the face.  
  
"That wasn't fair," she said.  
  
"I'm a soulless dead thing, and you expect me to be fair?"   
  
"Spike..."  
  
"Forget it. I don't know why I bothered to come here." He   
turned to go.  
  
"Please don't go. Not this way."  
  
"Is there any reason for me to stay?"  
  
"No ultimatums, Spike. I'm not going to give in that way."  
  
He turned back and glared at her. He moved close and backed   
her against the wall, his eyes full of righteous anger.  
  
"You don't get it, do you? It's not about giving in, pet. It's just   
giving. You can't keep taking and never expect to have to give   
anything back."  
  
He turned and was gone in the blink of an eye.  
  
Buffy leaned back against the wall and wiped away the hot   
tears that were trickling down her cheek. Her knees felt weak.   
She glanced at her watch and realized her break was over.  
  
Fifteen minutes -- that was all it took to destroy what might   
have been. What was the matter with her? Was what he was   
asking for so unreasonable?   
  
Would it be so horrible to have people know she cared about a   
soulless vampire? One who had completely changed himself.   
Maybe it hadn't been his choice, originally, but he had   
changed. She couldn't deny that. Giles always said that   
vampires had no free will -- they could only follow their evil   
impulses. But here was Spike disproving everything the   
Council said about his kind.  
  
Why was it so hard to make up her mind?  
  
------------  
  
Jonathan sat in the dark listening to his two cohorts in crime   
snoring softly.  
  
Becoming a supervillian hadn't been all it had been cracked up   
to be. And he knew they didn't trust him anymore. They   
watched him like a hawk. They never gave him an opportunity   
to get away. Even now, as they slept, the doors were alarmed   
so he couldn't leave without waking them. And the phones   
were rigged, so they'd know if he tried to call anyone.  
  
And he couldn't just turn them in, anyway. They'd know it was   
him, and they'd find a way to get back at him. He needed a way   
to stop this, without them ever knowing that he was the one   
who did it.  
  
And now he had a plan. He'd read a newspaper story a while   
ago about a robber who was caught because he used his   
victim's cell phone. He reached under the covers and took out   
the phone he'd picked up and pocketed at the bank.  
  
Who to call? It didn't matter, really. He wasn't going to talk to   
anybody. Andrew and Warren would hear him if he did. No, all   
that was important was to make the call -- as he'd been doing   
every chance he got when he wouldn't be observed since the   
bank robbery.  
  
In fact, he didn't even need to know who he was calling. He   
pressed "memory dial" and "1."  
  
The phone rang in Buffy's kitchen. 


	11. Job 14:14

Countdown: Job 14:14  
By ElsaF  
  
Spoilers: Another foray into the 24-verse. (For our readers   
joining late, an alternate S6 that began with the story "The   
Twenty-Fourth." Nothing to do with the TV show, "24." The   
24-verse splits off after Dead Things.)   
  
Summary: In the 24-verse, Buffy allowed Spike to explain the   
demon eggs in As You Were, and apologized for the beating in   
Dead Things. Spike and Buffy stayed together a little longer   
than they did on screen, but they still broke up because Spike   
demanded that she stop keeping their relationship a secret.   
Xander figured out that Buffy was seeing Spike during an all-  
night talk-a-thon while he and Spike were trapped in a bank   
vault.   
  
Acknowledgement: Thanks to Cindy for suggesting the Bible   
verse that forms the title of this segment.  
  
  
  
If a man die, shall he live again? All the days of my appointed   
time will I wait, till my change come.  
-- Job 14:14  
  
  
Clem and Gah were sharing a tub of hot wings and watching   
Knight Rider on Spike's television when he got back to his   
crypt.   
  
"Hey, Spike," Clem said, holding out the bucket of wings.   
"Hope you don't mind. I don't have cable, and there's a   
marathon."  
  
Spike waved off the wings.   
  
"S'OK," he said, barely loud enough to be heard. He would   
have slumped into his armchair, but Clem was sitting there.   
Gah was lying on his side on the floor, his head propped up on   
one hand, watching the television. The Fyarl demon was too   
big to fit in the chair comfortably, so he was content to take his   
ease without the benefit of furniture. Spike walked past his   
uninvited houseguests and went to lie down on the   
sarcophagus.  
  
Clem gave his friend a worried look.   
  
"Something wrong?"  
  
"Nothing." Spike crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.  
  
"Trouble with the Slayer?"  
  
Another deep sigh.  
  
"Thump!" Gah said sympathetically.  
  
A little smile crossed Spike's face.  
  
"Isn't anything that thumping's gonna solve, mate" he said with   
resignation.  
  
"Hey," Clem said, "Buffy's sweet, but I think she's kinda hard   
on her guys. Girl's got issues."  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
"I think the whole resurrection thing sort of screwed her head,"   
Clem offered. "You just gotta say, 'Hey, that's just her,' and go   
on."  
  
"That's the trouble," Spike replied. "It isn't just her."  
  
--------------  
  
"All right, I've got the phone traced," Willow said   
triumphantly. "These guys are toast!"  
  
Willow was seated at the dinning room table in Buffy's house,   
Tara standing behind her looking over her shoulder at the   
laptop screen.  
  
"They're no match for my girl," Tara said proudly.  
  
"That's right!" Willow looked over her shoulder to beam at   
Tara.  
  
Xander was seated beside Willow, where he didn't have a good   
view of the screen -- not that it mattered -- he hadn't a clue to   
what the display was showing. Buffy was seated across from   
Xander, with a view of the back of the computer. She had just   
arrived home from work when Willow got the signal that   
Xander's stolen cell phone was in use. She was still wearing   
her orange Doublemeat Palace uniform.  
  
Buffy sighed. "I guess we have to go do something about it   
then," she said listlessly.  
  
"Buffy, if you're not feeling well, we can take care of this,"   
Willow said. "These are just the nerds. We'll go and call the   
police and Xander can identify them as the ones who robbed   
the bank. They've got the phone and that'll be pretty good   
evidence. No demons or vampires involved. We don't really   
need a Slayer here."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No. We have no idea what they'll have   
up their sleeve. They froze the guard at the museum. They   
turned me invisible. They messed up time somehow when they   
got me all confused over that girl's body. They've called up   
several demons. And I'm pretty sure they killed that girl. No   
way I'm letting you guys go after them alone.  
  
"In fact, maybe you guys better stay here. I'll handle it."  
  
"No, Buffy. Not this time," Xander said firmly. "This isn't just   
your fight. They locked me in a bank vault with Spike. This   
time it's personal!"  
  
Buffy gave in with uncharacteristic ease. "All right. Let me   
change clothes." She got up and started for the stairs, but   
stopped.  
  
"Look, before we get started on this and get all distracted, I've   
got something I want to say. Best to say it when we're all here   
together."  
  
"Yes?" Willow said, looking up from the laptop.  
  
"I know this seems like a strange time to just come out and say   
this, but I've got to do it before I lose my nerve..."  
  
"We're all ears," Xander replied.  
  
"I've been seeing Spike."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Did you hear me? I've been ... with Spike."  
  
No reaction.  
  
"Has everybody been struck deaf and dumb?"  
  
"No," Xander said carefully. "Just waiting for the shocking   
revelation."  
  
"That was it. I've been seeing Spike."  
  
"And?" Xander said.  
  
"What do you mean, 'and?' That was it."  
  
"Oh, I see. Fine. It's just that usually, the big shocking   
revelation is something everybody doesn't already know."  
  
"You knew? Spike told you? That son of a ..."  
  
"No. Spike didn't tell me," Xander said, shaking his head. "In   
fact, when I asked him about it, he lied like a rug. Wouldn't   
admit it. But it's not like it wasn't obvious, Buff."  
  
"Obvious?" Buffy said in a pitiful voice.  
  
"Yeah. When you were invisible, and I went to Spike's crypt to   
ask if he'd seen you -- it's not like I couldn't tell you were there.   
I mean, I was just being polite, pretending I didn't know. If you   
didn't want to talk about it..."  
  
"Oh." Buffy looked at the floor. "Willow, I suppose Tara told   
you..."  
  
"No!" Tara said vehemently.  
  
"No, she didn't," Willow added. "I figured it out for myself.   
Best friend who lives with you, hello... You've been   
disappearing for hours. You come back from patrol so much   
later than you used to. And when you come back you always   
smell a little bit of cigarette smoke. Who do we know who   
smokes? And some of the bruises -- well, I know a hickey   
when I see one."  
  
"Oh..."   
  
Buffy took a deep breath. "I guess I still need to tell Dawn..."  
  
"Um... no," Willow said uncomfortably.  
  
"You told Dawn?"  
  
"Not on purpose! Last night, Tara and I were sort of talking   
about it -- not that she told me, I already knew -- and Dawn   
walked in on us."  
  
"Oh no! How did she react? Was she angry?"  
  
"Her exact words were, let me see if I can get this right: 'Oh,   
God, that is so neat! Oh, wow!' "  
  
"You mean I've been keeping this deep, dark secret, and   
sneaking around and letting it eat a hole in my gut, and   
everybody knew and nobody cared?"  
  
"I wouldn't say nobody cared," Xander said. "I care. But I don't   
exactly get veto power over your dating choices, do I? Correct   
me if I'm wrong, because if I actually do, I'm going to tell you   
to dump Spike, and try for someone better, like maybe Vin   
Diesel -- but I don't know, he might be hard to get a hold of   
these days. But he was sure cool on the snowboard."  
  
"Everybody knows?"  
  
"Well, probably not everybody -- if everybody includes, you   
know, everybody," Willow said with a little smile. "You could   
probably still tell Anya and surprise her, if that's any help. And   
nobody's talked to Giles lately, since he's in England and all."  
  
"OK, I can see the major traumas of my life continue to   
provide light amusement for the masses. I'm going to change   
clothes, then we can go kick some nerd butt."  
  
"All for the application of boot to nerd posterior," Xander said   
enthusiastically.  
  
Tara followed Buffy to the stairs.  
  
"See? I told you everything would get easier," she said gently.  
  
"Yeah, you did. Thanks." She gave Tara a hug, then turned to   
go upstairs.  
  
--------------  
  
Spike sat up abruptly, and slid off the top of the sarcophagus to   
start pacing like a caged animal.  
  
"It's not just her issues. Would I have put up with her not   
wanting to be seen with me if I didn't believe I wasn't good   
enough? Would I?"  
  
"Well, you know, it's a little bit odd, a vampire dating the   
Slayer," Clem said carefully. "Some people wouldn't think it   
was you who wasn't good enough. I wouldn't blame you for not   
wanting to be seen around town ..."  
  
"Bollocks!"  
  
Clem shrugged.  
  
"What have I got to offer her? I'm nothing."  
  
Gah frowned. "Wrong! Not nothing! Gah friend!" he said,   
pounding his fist on the floor.  
  
Clem and Spike both looked at Gah in surprise. Five words in a   
row was a virtual soliloquy coming from a Fyarl.   
  
"Thanks, mate, but you don't see it like I do. I remember --   
there was a time -- I thought I was a good man. I thought I was   
going to go on living and make the world better. Write great   
poems. Marry a beautiful woman and bring up strong, healthy   
children. I thought I'd come to the end of my life and people   
would say I'd made a difference.  
  
"And then everything changed. And I thought I was a monster   
-- not just any monster -- the monster's monster. The slayer of   
Slayers. I was bad -- really bad. A killer. A destroyer. Chaos   
incarnate.  
  
"Then they put this chip in my head, and I'm not that either.   
And I don't have any place in the world."  
  
Gah looked confused. "Your place," he said, patting the floor.  
  
Spike shook his head. "Why do I bother living in a crypt? I'm   
not one of the things that go bump in the night anymore. I have   
a hard time scaring little old ladies and little children. What the   
hell am I?"  
  
"You're Spike," Clem answered. "You help out the Slayer."  
  
"No. I make it harder for her. I'm something she has to keep   
hidden in the dark. She can't be seen with the likes of me. I   
don't blame her."  
  
"You gotta have known the thing with the Slayer was a long   
shot," Clem said. "Maybe it's time to move on. Plenty of fish in   
the sea. Find yourself a nice fledgling girl. Bring her up right."  
  
Spike shook his head. "No. Can't do it. Just can't seem to let   
go," he said, his voice tight as he struggled to overcome the   
lump in his throat.  
  
"Come on. Sit down and watch some Knight Rider. You'll feel   
better. You can have the chair..."  
  
Spike shook his head. "I can't go on this way. Neither fish nor   
fowl. I can't ask her to love me, when I've nothing to offer her.   
Something has to change."  
  
"Take it easy, Spike. Get some rest. Everything will look better   
when you've had some hot wings..."  
  
"No. There's nothing for it. She can't love a soulless vampire.   
Of course she can't. It's absurd. She's the Slayer! It's not her   
fault."  
  
Spike stopped in the middle of the crypt and looked up at the   
ceiling. "I have to change. I can change. I will change..."  
  
---------------  
  
Buffy watched as Jonathan and Andrew were loaded into a   
police car, their hands cuffed behind their backs. Warren had   
escaped -- with a jetpack of all things. Andrew might have   
done the same, but he'd buckled the straps wrong, and when he   
activated the escape device, it had escaped -- without him,   
singing his hair as it rose over his head.  
  
I was pretty clear they'd planned to leave Jonathan behind.   
Buffy almost felt sorry for him -- but not quite. There'd been   
too much irritation served up her way for her to be completely   
sympathetic.  
  
Tara came up beside her. "Willow and I are going to look   
around and see if there's anything here that gives us a clue to   
where Warren went."  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"The paramedics say Xander's arm will be OK. The cut isn't   
that bad. Good thing you knocked him down when you did.   
That buzz saw would have taken his head off."  
  
Buffy nodded again.  
  
"And the Bolshoi Ballet is asking for snacks. We're thinking of   
sending out for borscht and blini..."  
  
"Hmmm... what?"  
  
"Oh, then you were listening."  
  
"Sorry. Something else on my mind."  
  
"Places to go, vampires to see?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
-------------  
  
Clem and Gah were back to watching Knight Rider when   
Buffy came in. Clem started and knocked over his plate of   
nachos. He bent over and started putting them back on the   
plate.  
  
"Spike around?" she asked, before she noticed the Fyarl lying   
on the floor, head propped up on one hand, a bucket of hot   
wings in front of him.  
  
Buffy stepped back and assumed a fighting stance. "Clem, that   
a Fyarl..."  
  
"Oh, yeah. You've never met Gah, have you? Gah, this is   
Buffy."  
  
"You're friends with a Fyarl?"  
  
Clem just looked back at her as if the question made no sense,   
which to his mind, it didn't.  
  
"Sorry... I'm looking for Spike."  
  
"Oh. He's gone."  
  
"Gone? Where?"  
  
"He didn't say where he was going. He did say he wasn't going   
to be back for a while. Gah and me are going to watch the crypt   
for him. A prime spot like this would get taken over in no time   
-- besides, he's got cable."  
  
"Gone?"  
  
"Yeah. You want some nachos?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "If ... when he comes back, would you   
tell him I'm looking for him?"  
  
Clem nodded. "No problem. Sure you don't want to stay and   
watch Knight Rider? They're up to the one with David   
Hasselhoff in a dual role -- he gets to be the bad guy too."  
  
"No, just tell Spike when you see him, OK?"  
  
She went back outside and closed the door, leaning back   
against the cool surface. Oh God. He was gone. She'd waited   
too long.  
  
It just wasn't fair.  
  
---------------  
  
Gah looked up at Clem after Buffy left. He shook his head in   
puzzlement.  
  
"Puny," he said with disgust.  
  
"Yeah, and her skin's so tight. Don't really see what Spike sees   
in her."  
  
The Fyarl just shook his head.  
  
---------------  
  
Spike stopped the motorcycle at the top of the hill that   
overlooked Sunnydale. The lights of the town spread out like   
jewels scattered over black velvet. It was time to get going. He   
had seven hours or so before daylight. He needed to cover   
some distance before then. He took one more look back over   
the place he'd called home for longer than he'd stayed in one   
place at any other time in the nearly 120 years he'd been a   
vampire.  
  
"Farewell to what was," he said softly. He cast his mind back --   
farther than he usually cared to remember. Back to his youth.   
Studying with Father Burton in the rectory on Saturday   
afternoons. The words floated back to him.  
  
**Man born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble.  
  
He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also   
as a shadow, and continueth not.  
  
And dost thou open thine eyes upon such an one, and bringest   
me into judgment with thee?  
  
Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?**  
  
He threw down his cigarette and crushed out the ember with   
the toe of his boot.  
  
**If a man die, shall he live again? All the days of my   
appointed time will I wait, till my change come.** 


	12. Twelve Angry Demons

Countdown: Twelve Angry Demons  
By ElsaF  
Spoilers: Through Season 6  
Summary: The trials Spike endured were just a diversion, the   
outcome of his quest was determined elsewhere.  
  
  
  
"All stand for the Hon. Lurkamaenisis."  
  
"Gentledemons, we are convened to consider the fate of one   
William the Bloody, vampire, also known as Spike. The   
evidence has been presented. You have seen the deeds of this   
creature. You have heard his petition. This vampire asks for the   
return of his soul. He has agreed to the trials. It is now your   
charge to deliberate upon what you have seen. Think carefully.   
Your verdict is binding. A vote of "yay" means you believe the   
creature worthy of a soul. A vote of "nay" means this creature's   
existence shall be ended -- as he has agreed that he shall   
succeed or cease to be. As always, the verdict must be   
unanimous.  
  
"How vote you?"  
  
"I, Cran of the Fornoth, say nay."  
  
"I, Kort Dreff, say nay."  
  
"I, Be'nagellor, say nay."  
  
"I, Kah, say nay."  
  
"I, Manor of Gren, say nay."  
  
"I, Fif'gem Seel, say nay."  
  
"I, Norm, say nay."  
  
"I, Arryk, say nay."  
  
"I, Tregol Nerm, say nay."  
  
"I, Beth of the Greater Rank, say nay."  
  
"I, Raff, say nay."  
  
"I, Lenny, say yay."  
  
"Eleven nay, one yay. We have no verdict. Gentledemons, I   
charge you to reconsider. You will stay here until we have a   
verdict."  
  
"All right. Let's get this over with. Lenny, why? Why do you   
always do this? This is a vampire -- and not just any vampire, a   
particularly brutal vampire. You saw the stuff with the railroad   
spikes, didn't you? You saw the victim list. He's done two   
Slayers. You've seen him kill for fun. What possible   
justification could you have for voting to return his soul?"  
  
"I dunno. He's sort of cute."  
  
Eleven faces turn to the twelfth.  
  
"Cute?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"How did you get on this jury?"  
  
"They had a sign up sheet."  
  
"Change your vote. Let's get this over with."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"This is going to be a long day."  
  
"Let's take another vote."  
  
"Your honor, could I make a request?"  
  
"What, Lenny?"  
  
"A secret ballot?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"In case anybody's embarrassed to be voting against the   
majority."  
  
"Oh all right. Bring out the black and white marbles. And let's   
get this over with."  
  
"The second ballot is eleven nay, one yay. I'm sure we're all   
mystified by who would have voted yay."  
  
"I say we eat Lenny and make it unanimous again."  
  
"I'm sorry Arryk, I can't let you do that. We're in an amnesty   
zone here. No violence against your fellow jurors."  
  
"Your honor, can I say something."  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"Well, I just want to say, it's not just that he's cute. It's sort of   
neat that he asked for a soul. I just thought someone should   
recognize that."  
  
"Lenny has a point. Can anybody remember the last time a   
vampire asked for a soul?"  
  
"Thanks, Beth."  
  
"You're welcome, Lenny."  
  
"If I'm not mistaken, the last vampire to ask for a soul was   
Carlos the Mad in the year 1657 by the human date reckoning.   
He was insane. After he got his soul he went on a rampage and   
killed another fifty or sixty people before the humans brought   
him down."  
  
"Well, that was a bad example. I think you're prejudiced   
against vampires, Be'nagellor."  
  
"And you're not prejudiced in favor?"  
  
"The fact that I am a vampire is neither here nor there. To tell   
the truth, most of us would be repelled by William's desire for   
a soul. Souls, vampires -- not mixy things."  
  
"There you have it -- a good reason not to grant his request."  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"Please..."  
  
"Have we considered why he wants a soul?"  
  
"It would seem he wants it to gain the favor of a woman."  
  
"Not just a woman. The Slayer."  
  
"That's perverted. A vampire in love with the Slayer?"  
  
"I think it's sort of sweet."  
  
"You would."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Pansy!"  
  
"Tight ass!"  
  
"Gentledemons! Please. The discussion will be restricted to the   
petition before us."  
  
"My apologies, Your Honor."  
  
"Take another vote."  
  
"The third vote shall be counted as ten nay, two yay."  
  
"May I speak in the petitioner's behalf?"  
  
"Speak, Beth of the Greater Rank."  
  
"I would direct the jury's attention to the petitioner's conduct   
over the past three years. With only minor exceptions, his   
behavior has been exemplary."  
  
"I guess if you ignore his alliance with the artificial demon, his   
feeding on the victim of his former paramour and his attempt to   
attack a woman when he thought he was no longer bound."  
  
"I see few souled beings who have not sinned."  
  
"No, but these were particularly egregious actions."  
  
"The petitioner seems to have made an honest effort to change   
his nature."  
  
"And why should we be impressed by that. Vampires have   
vampire nature for a reason. They have a role to fulfill in the   
universe. Why should we pander to this individual's desire to   
avoid that role?"  
  
"Because we are individuals and there is more to us than our   
preordained role."  
  
"If we allow beings on the mortal plane to avoid their   
preordained fates, we have chaos. It cannot be allowed."  
  
"If we do not allow beings to exercise free will, then the mortal   
plane becomes nothing but theater of automatons."  
  
"Anarchy cannot be tolerated."  
  
"Tyranny cannot be allowed."   
  
"Take another vote."  
  
"The fourth vote shall be counted as eight nay, four yay."  
  
"I hope you're happy, Lenny. This is going to take forever."  
  
"We've got all the time in the world -- literally."  
  
"This individual. Is there any reason to believe he will not   
repeat the actions of Carlos the Mad?"  
  
"I think it's a definite possibility. He's not the most stable of   
creatures. He's a bit volatile. I wonder if he'll have the   
emotional strength to hold up under the burden a soul places on   
a vampire?"  
  
"If he doesn't, will it be worse than when he was an   
unrestricted vampire? There can't be much to lose."  
  
"I believe this vampire has an unusual record of empathy. I   
think he may be uniquely equipped to deal with the burden of a   
soul."  
  
"No vampire is equipped to deal with the burden of a soul.   
That's why they don't come with souls."  
  
"Yes, but look at this one's history. He cared for the insane   
female for more than a century. His affection toward her was   
unmistakable. And since he came under the influence of the   
Slayer, he has been steadfast in protecting her interests and her   
circle of friends and family."  
  
"With the exception..."  
  
"Yes, there was that. But I believe he was strongly provoked..."  
  
"There is no excuse..."  
  
"We have to balance that one incident against two years of   
good behavior."  
  
"No amount of good behavior can make up for this sort of   
assault -- particularly since it was perpetrated against the   
Slayer herself. Apparently the creature's determination to serve   
the Slayer's interests did not limit his baser impulses."  
  
"I believe that is why he is asking for a soul."  
  
"And that is why we need not grant it. It is not a worthy   
request. It does not grow out of a righteous desire to serve the   
cause of good."  
  
"If we only grant souls to those who don't need them, what's   
the point?"  
  
"If we give a soul to anyone who asks, we debase our most   
precious gift."  
  
"Tight ass!"  
  
"Libertine!"  
  
"Puritan!"  
  
"Anarchist!"  
  
"Gentledemons! Please set aside your personal emnity!"  
  
"My apologies, Lurkamaenisis."  
  
"Mine as well."  
  
"Take another vote."  
  
"The fifth vote shall be recorded as being five nay, seven yay."  
  
"All right! We're getting somewhere."  
  
"Lenny, I must ask you to restrain yourself."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"I wish to speak against the petitioner."  
  
"Speak, Kort Dreff."  
  
"I direct the jury's attention to the petitioner's actions after the   
death of the human known as Joyce Summers.  
  
"At that time, William the Bloody attempted to frustrate the   
natural order and assisted one of the subject's offspring in an   
attempt to raise the dead.  
  
"This action is both blasphemous and an abomination.   
Furthermore, he made a temporary alliance with the being   
known as Doc to that end."  
  
"I don't know. It was misguided, but was it an evil thing to   
do?"  
  
"To try to circumvent the natural death of a mortal being   
cannot be tolerated."  
  
"It didn't come to anything."  
  
"It was an attempt to commit a grave sin."  
  
"It was done out of compassion for the dead woman's   
children."  
  
"Vampires don't feel compassion."  
  
"This one apparently does. It's been demonstrated on numerous   
occasions."  
  
"Impossible."  
  
"How do you explain his liaison with the vengeance demon?"  
  
"A mere sexual conquest."  
  
"Hardly. It was compassion."  
  
"What about his defiance of the goddess Glorificus?"  
  
"Hardly compassion."  
  
"It was loyalty to the Slayer and her sister."  
  
"Vampires don't feel loyalty."  
  
"I'm beginning to think you just don't like vampires."  
  
"I don't like you, Lenny."  
  
"Fine. I don't like you either."  
  
"Lenny, Dreff -- knock it off."  
  
"Take another vote."  
  
"The sixth vote shall be recorded as two nay, ten yay."  
  
"I wish to speak on behalf of the petitioner."  
  
"You've said enough, Lenny."  
  
"Aw, come on."  
  
"Oh, all right."  
  
"We've gone from eleven to one, to two to ten. Why don't you   
two hard-asses give up so we can go home?"  
  
"Compelling... Anyone else want to speak?"  
  
"I'd like to speak."  
  
"Speak Fif'gem Seel."  
  
"The vampire was once a poet. We should return his soul to   
give the world back his muse."  
  
"Did you read any of his poetry?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"I think you just made a point for the opposition."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
"I wish to speak."  
  
"Speak Tregol Nerm."  
  
"The petitioner has demonstrated unfaltering determination. He   
is steadfast. Surely this should be rewarded."  
  
"Determination is not desirable if it is not in service to a   
worthy cause. It is only recently that William has accepted a   
worthy cause -- and even then it was only because of his   
attraction to the Slayer. Without her, he is does not dedicate   
himself to any cause but his own."  
  
"When the Slayer was dead, he continued his dedication to   
protect her sister and her friends."  
  
"Take another vote."  
  
"The seventh vote shall be recorded as one nay, and eleven   
yay."  
  
"OK, Kort Dreff -- what does it take to change your vote?"  
  
"I am unshakeable. I will never change my vote."  
  
"We're going to be here a long time."  
  
"Why? Why do you oppose the vampire's petition so strongly?"  
  
"There must be order in the universe. Vampires are not meant   
to serve good."  
  
"What is the point of having good and evil if each being cannot   
chose which to serve?"  
  
"What if everyone decided to be good? What would there be to   
contend against? The universe would grind to a halt! It is the   
battle between good and evil that provides the impetus that   
keeps the universe operating!"  
  
"Is that all? You're worried about there being too many good   
beings in the universe?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How about this? I'll promise to stay evil. No soul for this   
puppy. Nope. Soon as I get out of here, I'm going back to much   
on some more tasty people! Feeling a bit peckish, to tell the   
truth. I'd like to get back to it soon as possible."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"OK."  
  
"Take another vote."  
  
"The eighth vote shall be recorded as twelve yay."  
  
"Thank goodness. Nice meeting you guys. I'll just be off then."  
  
The twelve demons fade from sight, leaving only   
Lurkamaenisis, standing over the battered body of an   
exhausted vampire.  
  
"You have endured the required trials."  
  
"Bloody right I have," the vampire croaks.  
  
"So, give me what I want. Make me what I was... so Buffy can   
get what she deserves."  
  
"Very well. Your soul is returned to you." 


	13. The Eleventh Hour

Countdown: The Eleventh Hour  
By ElsaF  
  
Rating: PG-13 (very mild gay snuggles, and later some   
violence)  
  
Spoilers: We're back in the 24-verse, which split off and went   
AU after Dead Things.  
  
Summary: In the 24-verse, Buffy allowed Spike to explain the   
demon eggs and they didn't break up at the end of As You   
Were. But Spike's insistence that she let her friends know about   
them means they break up a little while later. Buffy makes up   
her mind and tells her friends -- only to discover they all ready   
knew. But when she went to Spike to tell him the secret was   
out, it was too late -- he'd left town. Meanwhile, the Scoobs   
raided the Nerds, and Jonathan and Andrew are in custody.   
Warren escaped.   
  
  
  
  
  
Willow sat up slowly. The room was flooded with sunlight.   
She looked over to see Tara still asleep beside her, her lover's   
dark blonde hair spread out on the pillow, her eyes still   
peacefully closed. Could waking up be any better?  
  
She swung her feet out from under the sheet to make contact   
with the floor.  
  
"Hmmm... where'd you go?" murmured Tara from behind her.  
  
"Time to get up, sleepyhead. I bet it's after 10."  
  
Tara's eyes opened. "Oh no! I have a class. Didn't you set an   
alarm?"  
  
"I think I forgot. Principals of Philosophy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your ten o'clock class."  
  
"Oh... yeah. Looks like it's too late now. I guess we might as   
well stay right here."  
  
"Sorry about making you miss your class."  
  
"That's OK. Professor Markman is really boring. I fall asleep   
half the time anyway. I'll get the notes from Amanda."  
  
"Amanda?" Willow said, raising an ever-so-slightly jealous   
eyebrow.   
  
"Just a friend. A non-gay friend."  
  
"Oh... I didn't mean... I mean... well, I know you have friends."  
  
Tara smiled. "Only one special friend."  
  
Willow lay back down beside her, cuddling up with her head   
on Tara's shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, me too." She took Tara's hand and they laced their   
fingers together. They lay together, listening to one another   
breathe for a long moment.  
  
"Um... I was wondering, um... maybe you could move back   
here. I mean, if it's OK with Buffy, though I don't see why   
she'd say no."  
  
"Oh... uh... I don't know. It's kind of soon. And my roommate,   
she'd have to find someone else to share the rent."  
  
"Oh..." Willow said, her face falling.  
  
"That doesn't mean I can't come over a lot. And you can come   
to my place, too. I have my own bedroom. And next   
semester..."  
  
"It's OK. I can be patient."  
  
"I don't hear anybody else in the house," Tara said, changing   
the subject. "Wonder where Buffy and Dawn are."  
  
"Well, since it's mid-morning on a Friday, I'm guessing Dawn's   
at school."  
  
"Oh, right. I forgot. Been away from the routine for a while.   
Buffy's gone to work?"  
  
"Don't think so. She's on Sunday through Thursday now. And   
she doesn't go in until noon anyway."  
  
Tara sat up and put her bare feet on the floor. Her T-shirt was   
hanging over the bedpost and she grabbed it and pulled it over   
her head. Her jeans were on the floor and she picked them up.  
  
"Getting dressed already?"  
  
"We can't stay in bed all day, lazybones," she said with a laugh.   
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because Buffy's probably being very, very quiet to keep from   
disturbing us. We need to get up and let her know she can go   
back to slamming things around."  
  
Willow lay back and giggled. "Yes, a quiet Buffy is a brooding   
Buffy. And a brooding Buffy is a dangerous Buffy."  
  
"I felt sorry about Spike," Tara said seriously. "I mean, I   
thought they were going to work it out. But now she'll have to   
wait until he gets back."  
  
"If he comes back," Willow said, reaching off the edge of the   
bed to the floor where her clothes were lying in a heap.  
  
"Oh, surely he will."  
  
Willow was fastening her jeans when she glanced out the   
window.  
  
"Oh! That's why Buffy's so quiet. She's outside. And Xander's   
here. Hope he's cheering her up."  
  
"Xander's good at that," Tara replied.  
  
"Sometimes. When he isn't too wrapped up in his own   
troubles."  
  
-----------------  
  
Xander sat next to Buffy on the bench.  
  
"So, here we are," he said glumly. "The few, the proud, the   
jilted."  
  
"Be fair," Buffy replied. "It's our own fault. Nobody to blame.   
What he was asking wasn't such a big deal. It was important to   
him, and I refused. I can't believe I was so stupid. Everybody   
already knew."  
  
"Well, maybe if we hadn't been so careful to not let you know   
we knew, you wouldn't..."  
  
"No, it was all my fault. I should never have gone to him if I   
was too ashamed to let anybody know about it. How could I do   
that, Xander? I was telling him he wasn't good enough to be   
seen with me. You know how much that must have hurt him?   
When did I turn into Cordelia? God, of all the awful things that   
could have happened to me, why did I have to turn into   
Cordelia?"  
  
"I know Cordelia, Buffy. Cordelia Chase was once a friend of   
mine, and I can tell you, you're no Cordelia Chase..."   
  
"Ha, ha..."  
  
"Oh, give me a break. You try to come up with quips when you   
feel like a freshly horked up hairball."  
  
"Have you tried to talk to Anya again?" Buffy asked gently   
putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Xander shook his head and looked away. "Um... last time went   
bad enough."  
  
"Give it some time. It's not going to be easy, but if you really   
want to make it up to her..."  
  
"I don't think I can."  
  
"Never say never..."  
  
--------------  
  
Willow had gone to the bathroom to wash her face. Tara   
peeked out the window. Xander and Buffy were deep in serious   
conversation. She hoped they were finding some comfort   
together. She felt bad that her friends were so unhappy. Maybe   
some comfort food for lunch would help. It wasn't much, but a   
pot of chili and some fresh-baked corn bread couldn't hurt.   
She'd have to see what was in the refrigerator. Buffy wasn't   
famous for keeping a well-stocked pantry. This might mean a   
trip to the grocery.  
  
It was a beautiful day for a walk to the store -- with Willow,   
naturally. The sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky.   
She glanced at the driveway when a movement there caught   
her eye, and stepped back in shock.  
  
-------------  
  
"It's not just that I can't make it up," Xander said glumly. "But I   
don't deserve to be forgiven. How could I have been such an   
utter coward?"  
  
There was a sudden pounding sound coming from the house.   
Buffy looked up to see Tara beating her fist on the second-  
story bedroom window. She was shouting something, but   
Buffy couldn't quite make it out.  
  
"Look out!" came Tara's muffled voice. "It's Wa..."  
  
"What?" Xander said, looking up.  
  
The first bullet missed completely. It whizzed by Buffy's ear   
before she registered that she'd heard the crack of the gun. She   
spun around to face Warren, who was pointing an automatic   
pistol directly at her. He held the weapon awkwardly, but the   
rage on his face told her he was absolutely serious about using   
it.  
  
"You think you can just do that to me? That I'd let you get   
away with it? Think again ..."   
  
For Buffy, time seemed to slow. She saw his finger tighten on   
the trigger. She saw the flash as the gun fired. She saw the   
bullet coming toward her. She heard the sharp crack of the   
shot, and even had time to realize she'd seen the flash before   
the sound reached her. She knew she had to move or it was   
going to strike her in the center of her chest. But her legs   
wouldn't respond. She was frozen in place...  
  
Until Xander tackled her and pushed her aside. She felt his   
body jerk as the bullet hit him.  
  
Time snapped back to its normal speed. Buffy charged toward   
Warren...  
  
------------  
  
Tara ran for the stairs shouting to Willow.  
  
"Warren's out there and he's got a gun. Call the police!"  
  
Willow came out of the bathroom looking confused for a   
moment then followed Tara down the stairs. Her hands were   
shaking as she picked up the phone and dialed 911.  
  
-----------  
  
Buffy didn't hear the third and fourth shots. She didn't feel the   
impact as third bullet hit her. She just knew that somehow her   
charge toward Warren had stopped and she was on her back on   
the ground.  
  
Tara was looking down at her, her face a mask of horror.  
  
"Buffy! Can you hear me?"  
  
She was confused. But she knew she was still alive. She could   
feel her hands and feet. She could move her legs.  
  
"Xander," she said. "Help Xander. I don't think I'm that bad."  
  
Tara looked over her shoulder and let out a little cry. Her face   
disappeared, and Buffy was looking up at blue sky. Got to get   
up, she told herself. She levered herself into a sitting position   
and the pain began -- a sharp stab in her shoulder. Her right   
arm was numb. She looked down and saw a red stain spreading   
across her blouse.  
  
"Police and EMS are on the way," Willow said, as she   
crouched down beside Xander, where Tara was carefully trying   
to turn him on his back.  
  
"Xander, Xander..." Willow kept saying. Buffy watched with   
an odd feeling of detachment. It was like watching a show on   
television. This couldn't really be happening, could it?  
  
"Put pressure on the wound," Tara said. "We've got to control   
the bleeding. Oh, God... there's so much blood. So much..."  
  
Buffy felt a hand on her shoulder. Tara was with her, trying to   
get her to lie back down.  
  
"You're bleeding, Buffy. You need to lie flat and let me put   
pressure on the wound."  
  
"Is Xander..." she heard herself say.  
  
"It's bad. But the ambulance is on the way. He's still breathing.   
Now lie down. You need help, too."  
  
Buffy let Tara push her back. She looked down and saw the   
other woman's hands bathed in red. Tara's hands were pressing   
something against her own wound. There was so much blood --   
Xander's blood. It was splashed on Tara's T-shirt and smeared   
on her arms. And now Tara was getting Buffy blood on her too.   
Buffy blood was mingling with Xander blood. Tara was taking   
a bath in blood. What did that mean? What was happening?  
  
She heard sirens. And everything went black...  
  
---------------  
  
Spike parked the motorcycle at the trailhead. The wilderness   
area supposedly closed at sundown, unless you had a camping   
permit. But soulless vampires aren't big on applying for   
permits, so he just smirked at the wooden sign erected by the   
California Department of Natural Resources detailing the rules   
for this mountain hiking area.  
  
He didn't have any camping equipment. And he certainly didn't   
plan to do any camping. He took another look at the   
enumerated rules on the board. Number eight was "No   
smoking." OK, that one made sense. Forest fires, bears with   
shovels. Here to change. He took the cigarettes out of his   
pocket and laid them on the seat of the motorcycle.   
  
With that, he took off walking down the dark trail, his duster   
billowing around his legs.   
  
There were things in these mountains that most of the fresh-air   
freaks who came out here to camp had no clue about. But he   
knew. He'd been listening to the gossip in the demon bars for   
enough years to know where to find what he was looking for.   
He'd heard about the demon that had its lair up in these   
mountains. Most hikers would never even see the entrance to   
the cave. You had to know it was there, and have a strong   
desire to reach it to be able to see it at all. And if the stories   
he'd heard were true, getting to it wasn't going to be easy.   
  
But none of that mattered. He was going to find it if he had to   
wander these mountains for a hundred years. And when he   
found it, he was going to get what he came for. 


	14. Ten Minutes

Countdown: Ten Minutes  
Author: Elsa Frohman  
Feedback: elsa@frohman.net  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: We're back in the 24-verse, which split off and went   
AU after Dead Things.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Buffy and Spike did not   
break up at the end of AYW, but they did a little later because   
Buffy refused to let her friends know about Spike. When she   
finally made up her mind and told them, they already knew.   
But before she could go tell him the secret was out, he decided   
to change himself to be someone she would be willing to be   
seen with, and left town. The Nerds have been raided, and   
Jonathan and Andrew are in custody. Warren got away and   
came back and shot both Buffy and Xander, who pushed her   
out of the way and took a bullet meant for her.   
  
  
  
  
Willow sat beside Tara in the hospital waiting room. Nobody   
would tell them anything. It was chilly in here -- the air   
conditioning seemed to be turned up too high. The only warm   
thing was Tara's hand holding her own.   
  
"Why won't they tell us anything?" she said for the tenth or   
fifteenth time.  
  
"They're busy trying to save Buffy and Xander," Tara said   
softly. "Let them do their work."  
  
Willow wished she had words to express the feeling of   
helplessness that was pressing down on her now. There was   
nothing she could do. Nothing. If she was still doing magic she   
could help somehow. But without magic, all she could do was   
sit here waiting for someone to come out and tell her two of the   
three people she cared most about were gone. There had to be   
something she could do.  
  
A young doctor in surgical scrubs stepped into the waiting   
room.  
  
"Is the Summers family here?" he asked.  
  
"That's us," Tara answered.  
  
The doctor came over to them.  
  
"Is she ..." Willow asked, afraid to finish the sentence.  
  
"Miss Summers is doing fine," the doctor said with a smile.   
"She's out of surgery and in recovery. The bullet stopped   
against her clavicle -- her collarbone. The bone sustained a   
hairline fracture. She'll have a sore shoulder for a while. But   
other than that and some blood loss, there was very little   
damage. A few weeks of restricted activity while the bone   
mends, and she'll be good as new."  
  
"Thank the Goddess," Tara said with obvious relief.  
  
"What about Xander?" Willow asked.  
"Who?"  
  
"The man who came in at the same time," Tara explained. "The   
other gunshot wound."  
  
"He's still in surgery. Someone will come for you when there is   
news," the doctor said, checking his clipboard as he spoke.  
  
"Can we see her?"  
  
"One of you can go into the recovery room. She's not conscious   
yet, but she will be soon."  
  
"You go," Tara said. "I'll wait here for news on Xander."  
  
-----------------  
  
Buffy was already struggling toward consciousness when   
Willow got to the recovery room. She was groggy and   
disoriented, but her Slayer constitution was throwing off the   
effects of anesthesia quickly.  
  
"Buffy, it's me, Willow. You're going to be OK. The doctor said  
you're going to be fine."  
  
Buffy blinked and tried to focus her eyes.  
  
"Xander?" she mumbled.  
  
"We don't know yet."  
  
"You have to help Xander," Buffy said louder. There was a   
tinge of panic in her voice.  
  
"We're at the hospital, Buffy. They're helping Xander right   
now."  
  
Buffy looked confused.  
  
"Please, help Xander," she pleaded.  
  
"God, I wish I could," Willow whispered. "How I wish I   
could."  
  
"Dawn?" Buffy asked.  
  
"It's all right. We called her school. She's going home with   
Janice. You don't have to worry. Janice's mother is going to   
bring her here later."  
  
Buffy relaxed. "So tired," she said.  
  
"Rest now. You're going to be fine. Everything is going to be   
fine."  
  
"What happened?" Buffy asked, her voice trailing off as she   
sank back toward sleep.  
  
Willow reached over and brushed a strand of hair away from   
her friend's face. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was   
five after twelve.   
  
"Everything is going to be fine," she repeated to herself. She   
just wished she could believe it. Not knowing about Xander   
was eating at her gut. She couldn't get the image of his blood   
oozing out around her hands as she put pressure on the wound   
out of her head. There had been so much blood. Bright red   
arterial blood. The wound had been so close to his heart.  
  
She had to know how he was doing. She simply had to know,   
so when Buffy woke up again she could tell her and put her   
mind at ease. It wouldn't take much. Nothing big. Just a little   
passive magic to let her see him. For Buffy's sake.  
  
She closed her eyes and slipped into the mental state that   
allowed her to touch the magic. It had been months, but it still   
came to her easily. Nothing big. Nothing invasive. She just   
needed to find Xander's mind among the hundreds of minds in   
this place.  
  
She searched through the jumble of roiling consciousnesses. So   
much worry. So many of the people here were afraid. Afraid of   
losing a loved one. Afraid they were going to die. Pain. So   
much pain.  
  
She steeled herself. She couldn't be distracted by all the   
emotions surrounding her. She needed to find one mind. She   
knew what Xander felt like. The previous summer, when she   
had communicated with her friends this way during their   
demon hunting, she had touched his mind again and again. She   
looked for him -- and found him.  
  
He was unconscious, naturally. She felt the weight of the   
anesthesia.   
  
And she felt him slipping away. He was getting weaker. He   
was losing his connection to the mortal plane. Oh, God, he was   
dying.  
  
Her eyes snapped open. She knew she had to let go of him   
now. If he slipped off the mortal plane while she was   
connected to him, he might pull her along with him.  
  
But she couldn't let go. If she did, she knew he would be gone   
in a moment. She held on, hoping her will alone could keep   
him in the world. The doctors could repair his body -- if they   
had time. She held on to him with every bit of her magical   
strength.  
  
//Xander, stay with me. Please stay with me. You have to hold   
on.//  
  
He was still slipping away.   
  
//No! I won't let you go. You have to stay with me.//  
  
//Willow? Is that you?//  
  
//Listen to me, Xander. Hold on to my voice. You have to hold   
on.//  
  
//Sorry. Have to go now.//  
  
"NO!" Willow shouted.   
  
----------------  
  
Buffy heard the shout and snapped fully awake. She was lying   
on a gurney. There was an IV in her hand. Her shoulder hurt   
like hell. But none of that mattered.  
  
Something had happened to Willow. She had shouted. And   
now she was standing frozen, her eyes wide and completely   
black. She was staring into nowhere.  
  
"Will!" Buffy said, sitting up. The IV got in the way and she   
tore it out of her hand, paying no attention to the pain and the   
little trickle of blood that came out of the needle wound.  
  
"Will! Come back. Speak to me," she said, jumping off the   
gurney to grab her friend and shake her.  
  
Willow came back enough to push Buffy away with surprising   
strength.  
  
"Willow. Don't do this!" Buffy pleaded.  
  
---------------  
  
In the operating room, the struggle to save the young man with   
the gunshot wound continued. It was a losing battle. His pulse   
and respiration were faltering.   
  
An alarm went off.  
  
"Flatline! We've got a flatline," someone said urgently.  
  
----------------  
  
Willow heard Buffy's voice from a distance. It was too late.   
She had to act now. Xander was almost gone. If he crossed   
over, there would be no way to bring him back.  
  
She reached out into the otherworld that the magic flowed   
from. The real world of the recovery room froze in time.  
  
"Osiris!" she cried out. "Hear my call, Osiris."  
  
A dark gathered above her. She could feel the   
presence of the god of the dead as he approached through the   
ether.  
  
"How dare you call upon me, witch. I granted your request.   
Now you call upon me again. You risk your very existence."  
  
Willow looked up at the angry face forming out of the gray   
clouds over her head.  
  
"There is one about to cross over. I entreat you to reject him.   
Don't take him."  
  
----------------  
  
"Clear!"  
  
There was a thump as the jolt of electricity flowed out of the   
paddles into Xander's chest.  
  
-----------------  
  
"This is a mortal death, witch. It cannot be reversed."  
  
"He has not crossed yet. You can refuse him. I beg of you.   
Don't take him."  
  
"You came to be before and proved your strength. I granted   
your request. What can you offer me now? Why should I   
interfere in the natural order?"  
  
"I beg of you, Osiris."  
  
"To stop a death already begun is against the laws of nature. If   
I am to intervene on your behalf there will be a price."  
  
"I will pay the price."  
  
"It will be dear."  
  
"I will pay any price."  
  
-----------------  
  
"Clear!"  
  
Another jolt.  
  
----------------  
  
"I ask you again. Will you pay the price?"  
  
"I will pay."  
  
"Very well. Thrice asked. Thrice answered. Your contract is   
irrevocable."  
  
The recovery room came back into focus. Buffy stumbled back   
against the gurney, then came back to look into Willow's eyes   
again.  
  
"Will, please. Come back..."  
  
---------------  
  
In the waiting room, Tara had closed her eyes for a moment.   
She was meditating -- finding calm to face the uncertainty. She   
relaxed and felt the energies around her. So much worry. She   
rose above the turbulent emotions and found her quiet place in   
the ether. She reached out and touched the steady pulse of life   
energy that flowed through all everything in the universe.   
There was peace to be had here.   
  
Then she felt it. A sharp, discordant pulse of energy.  
  
Her eyes snapped open. "Willow! No!"  
  
----------------  
  
"We have a pulse. Respiration re-established."  
  
"I've got the slug. Let's start closing."  
  
________  
  
Willow's eyes focused. She was back in the recovery room.  
Buffy was off the gurney standing in front of her, looking very  
concerned.  
  
"It's OK," Willow said vaguely. "Xander is going to make it."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Everything is going to be OK," Willow said, a little more  
confidently.  
  
Buffy looked worried. "What did you do?"  
  
"Nothing. It's going to be OK."  
  
She backed away from Buffy. The worry on her friend's face   
bothered her. Buffy should be happy now. Xander was going to   
survive. Everything would be all right. She glanced around the   
room. Why didn't Buffy see that it was going to be OK now?   
Her eyes fell on the clock. Twelve fifteen. It had been ten   
minutes. She had immersed herself in the magic again for ten   
minutes. But those ten minutes had made all the difference in   
the world. Xander was going to live. She knew it. That's all that   
mattered. And now she could quit again. No problem.  
  
"Willow, something's wrong. I can tell..."  
  
"No, nothing's wrong. Really!"  
  
------------------  
  
It was late afternoon, but the sun had dropped behind the   
mountain and he could move around again.   
  
He'd wandered all the previous night without success. When   
morning came, he hung his duster over a branch on a scrub oak   
tree and made a crude shelter. He huddled there through the   
day, not sleeping. There wasn't enough shadow to relax and   
sleep. He could only sit in the small space shaded by his coat   
with his knees drawn up to his chin, waiting for the sun to go   
down.  
  
Mid-morning a group of hikers had come upon him and he'd   
had to explain that no, he wasn't in any distress and would they   
please bugger off and leave him alone. He realized he must be   
an odd sight with his black jeans and shirt, huddled under a   
black leather coat in the middle of a copse of scraggly trees.   
They probably thought he was stark raving mad.  
  
Maybe he was. He was wandering through this dry forest   
looking for a place he wasn't even certain he'd recognize. He'd   
heard that if his desire was strong enough, he would know the   
place when he found it. But right now, he wasn't sure he hadn't   
walked by it a dozen times.  
  
He was stiff from sitting still, and hungry -- though there was   
nothing for that. He'd be fasting until he got back to   
somewhere with a butcher shop.  
  
He stretched and swung his coat around his shoulders. He set   
off up the path he'd been following. If this didn't pan out, he'd   
try another, and another, until he found what he was looking   
for.  
  
-----------------  
  
They brought Buffy home from the hospital that afternoon. She   
refused to stay any longer. Her shoulder was sore, but required   
no more than a sling. Dawn had read the information sheet on   
changing the dressing on the wound, and had promised the   
nurse she'd be certain it was taken care of.  
  
Xander came out of the operating room and was in a semi-  
private room by mid-afternoon. Willow stayed with him until   
the nurse made her leave when visiting hours were over. He   
was pale and weak, but coherent, and she sat by his bed   
holding his hand as he slept. Tara said her farewells and went   
back to campus around dinnertime.  
  
When Willow got back to Revello Drive, Buffy was in bed and   
Dawn had fallen asleep in front of the television. She woke the   
teen and sent her upstairs to bed.  
  
Willow was tired to the bone. But she was happy. Her friends   
were safe. Xander was mending. Buffy would be back to   
normal in a day or two. She allowed herself a small measure of   
pride that she'd proven up to the day's challenges. She'd made a   
difference.  
  
She was about to turn off the television and head to bed herself   
when she was startled by a figure standing in the hallway door.  
  
It was a demon, tall enough that he had to bend down a little bit   
it into the doorway. His skin was gray-green and covered with   
iridescent scales. His fingers ended in curved talons. She could   
see the tops of folded wings over his shoulders.  
  
But even as fearsome as his appearance was, his attitude was   
relaxed and unthreatening. He was simply standing there   
looking at her. Willow found she wasn't afraid at all.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"I am the courier." His voice was deep and hollow.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I have come to collect the payment."  
A dagger of fear stabbed Willow's gut. Her hand went to her   
mouth.  
  
"The payment. It's my life, isn't it?" she asked in a tiny   
frightened voice.  
  
The demon shook his head. "No. Your life is not forfeit."  
  
"Oh, OK. That's good at least."  
  
The demon continued to look at her.  
  
"So, what is it. I agreed. Whatever the price, I'll pay it."  
  
The demon nodded.  
  
"I have come to take your soul." 


	15. Love Potion No 9

Countdown: Love Potion No. 9  
By ElsaF  
Spoilers: None, AU centered around Lovers Walk  
  
  
***********  
I took my troubles down to Madame Ruth  
You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth  
She's got a shop down on 34th and Vine  
Sellin' little bottles of Love Potion No. 9  
  
I told her that I was a flop with chicks  
I'd been this way since 1956  
She stretched out her palm and she made a magic sign  
She said 'What you need boy is Love Potion No. 9'  
  
-- The Searchers  
*************  
  
  
  
Willow lay on her bed brooding. She was safe. But Oz wasn't   
speaking to her. It was all Spike's fault. //Damn vampire.// And   
after all that, after he kidnapped her, threatened her, left her   
locked in the old factory with Xander, he hadn't even bothered   
to come back for the spell he'd demanded. Who knew vampires   
suffered from ADD?  
  
It was Spike's fault. If he hadn't left her alone with Xander at   
the factory, they'd never have been caught kissing by their   
significant others.  
  
Xander was in as much trouble with Cordelia as she was with   
Oz. Willow was sort of glad that the cheerleader was going to   
recover from the injuries. Sort of glad. On the other hand, as   
much as she didn't want to admit it, it hurt to have Xander   
loudly regretting he'd laid hands on her. What did Cordelia   
have that she didn't? Other than the expensive clothes, to-die-  
for looks, her own car, and... oh, forget it. She didn't have   
perfect attendance ... or straight 'A's ... or a student of the   
month award. Of course not, only nerds and geeks have student   
of the month awards. If Cordelia got one, she'd burn it.  
  
//Damn vampire.//   
  
Willow socked her pillow.   
  
//I'd like to have him here right now. I'd show him a thing or   
two.//  
  
She collapsed down onto the pillow. Not that she could sleep.   
As soon as she closed her eyes, she was composing a new   
speech to make Oz realize he had to forgive her. The first   
eighteen versions hadn't been terribly convincing.  
  
//Damn vampire.//  
  
She heard a tapping on her window and looked up, and let out a   
little cry of surprise and fear.  
  
A pale face topped by bleached blonde hair floated outside her   
window. Well, no, he wasn't floating. He'd climbed the tree and   
was perched on the branch outside her bedroom. But his black   
clothing left the impression that his face was suspended in air   
outside the window.  
  
"Invite me in," he demanded.  
  
"Are you kidding? I'm not inviting you in. Go away."  
  
"Come on. I won't hurt you. Promise. Invite me in."  
  
"Oh, I so believe you," Willow said with an exasperated frown.   
  
"At least open the window so I can talk to you without   
shouting."  
  
"Go away."  
  
"You can talk to me now, or after I pick off a couple of your   
friends."  
  
"Is this how you convince me you're not going to hurt me?"  
  
"Come on, open the window."  
  
Willow slid up the sash and glared at the vampire outside.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"The love spell."  
  
"Buffy said you changed your mind and didn't want it after all.   
You put me through all that, and you just forgot about it."  
  
"Yeah... but I got to thinking, couldn't hurt. So I came back."  
  
"I'm not your prisoner anymore. You can't come in here if I   
don't invite you. So you can't do anything to me. I'm going to   
help you, why?"  
  
"You've certainly got your knickers in a twist. It's not like I   
hurt you or anything."  
  
"No, except for Oz not speaking to me anymore. And   
Cordelia's in the hospital and probably never going to talk to   
Xander again."  
  
"Oz? Cordelia? Who are they?" The vampire looked genuinely   
puzzled.  
  
"Oz is my boyfriend. He's in a band. Cordy is Xander's   
girlfriend. She's a cheerleader."  
  
"So Oz and Cordy are mad a you and Harris because I   
kidnapped you? Am I missing something? Like logic?"  
  
"If you hadn't kidnapped us, Oz and Cordy wouldn't have come   
in to rescue us just as we were -- well they wouldn't have had   
to rescue us at all!"  
  
Spike started to laugh. "So, let me get this straight, because I'm   
confused. I really thought you and the boy were an item,   
because you were acting like it. But you're not, and you got   
caught canoodling by your real steadies. And somehow this is   
my fault..."  
  
"Well it is!"  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Just go away!"  
  
"I want my spell. Then I'll go away."  
  
"Now you want your spell. You couldn't come back when you   
said you were going to. No. You just had to leave us there to   
get caught. Now you want your spell."  
  
"Come on, love. You know you want to do it. I could see it in   
your eyes when I first suggested it. You want to try it out."  
  
Willow frowned. "Even if I did, I wouldn't want to do it for   
you."  
  
"Aw, come on. I'm not such a bad sort... You're Jewish, aren't   
you?"  
  
"Yeah, what's that got to do with anything?"  
  
"I was just wondering why you've got crosses on your bedroom   
wall," he said, peering past Willow to look into her room.  
  
"Oh, that was to keep Angelus out -- after he went evil."  
  
"Angelus had an invite for your bedroom?" Spike asked, his   
eyes widening in surprise. "Has that wanker shagged every   
woman in Sunnydale?"  
  
"No! Never. He just visited me once. It wasn't anything."  
  
"Just like it wasn't anything with you and Harris at the factory?   
I'll tell you, it's the shy ones you've got to watch..."  
  
Willow slammed the window down.  
  
"Go away!" she said forcefully.  
  
"Willow? Who are you talking to?" came her mother's voice   
from downstairs.  
  
"Nobody, mother. I was just ... um... reading out loud."  
  
"All right, honey."  
  
"Wiiiillllllooowwww...." said Spike outside the window.   
"Willllloooooowwwww...."  
  
"Stop that!"  
  
"Open the window."  
  
Willow raised the sash again.  
  
"Come on, invite me in."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Suit yourself. I'll just stay out here and wait for someone to   
come out of your house..."  
  
"If you hurt anyone in my family Buffy is so going to stake   
you!"  
  
"Everything will be so much easier if you just give me what I   
want. I'll go away then. Won't bother you ever again."  
  
"Why do I doubt that?"  
  
"Really. Do the love spell, then I'll go back to Dru. You don't   
think I want to hang around this town, do you? It may be the   
Hellmouth, but it's still only got one Starbucks."  
  
"Look, say I do your spell... you'll go away and never tell   
anybody that I did it?"  
  
"I'm the soul of discretion..."  
  
"Right," Willow said, rolling her eyes. "OK, I'm only doing   
this to get rid of you."  
  
"You need me to get the supplies again?"  
  
"No, I have everything I need right here."  
  
"Oh, you weren't interested in doing this spell... let me guess.   
You were planning on using it on your boyfriend -- Opie or   
whatever?"  
  
"Oz," Willow said with a frown. "He's a musician."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"You stay there. I'll do it and hand it out to you."  
  
She knelt down and pulled a tray from under her bed. It had a   
number of items arranged on it -- a bowl of some sort of liquid,   
a few feathers, some herbs and an old, leather-bound book,   
with a bookmark in it.  
  
"Weren't going to do it, eh?"  
  
"Be quiet. I need to concentrate."  
  
----------------  
  
***********  
She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink  
She said "I'm gonna make it up right here in the sink"  
It smelled like turpentine, it looked like Indian ink  
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink  
***********  
  
Willow poured her concoction into an empty shampoo bottle   
and handed it through the window with a frown.  
  
"Now, go away and leave me alone."  
  
"Not so fast, love. We're going to test it first. I don't need to get   
all the way to South America and find out you've given me a   
bottle of spot remover."  
  
"Well, I'm not taking it."  
  
"We'll find someone else to test it on."  
  
"Nothing doing. Take it and go away. That was the deal."  
  
"I'm changing the deal."  
  
"If you don't trust me, just give it back, and go away!"   
  
Willow reached out of the window to take the bottle back and   
Spike grabbed her arm.   
  
"Let go!"  
  
"You'd be surprised how often people make that mistake," he   
said with a triumphant laugh. He dragged her through the   
window. There wasn't room for another person on the tree   
branch, so he held her around the waist, suspended over empty   
air.  
  
"Let go of me!"  
  
"You really want me to?"  
  
"No! Let me down!"  
  
Spike slipped the bottle into his pocket and shifted Willow   
across his shoulder. He jumped off the branch and hit the   
ground, his powerful legs absorbing the shock. He set Willow   
down, but held onto her wrist.  
  
"Now, we're going to find someone to test this on."  
  
Willow licked her lips and looked around with the eyes of a   
trapped animal.  
  
"Don't worry. This works, and I won't hurt you. You've got   
nothing to worry about -- if this bottle's full of what I want."  
  
"Well, I told you I'm not a real witch. I'm just learning..."  
  
"Well, you'd better hope you got it right, pet."  
  
--------------  
  
The Bronze was crowded. The band was loud, and not   
particularly good. But most of the patrons didn't care. It's not   
like there was anywhere else to hang out in Sunnydale.  
  
Harmony Kendell was holding court at a table near the edge of   
the dance floor. The gossip of the moment was Cordelia Chase   
finding her pathetic boyfriend, Xander Harris, in the arms of   
the school's uber-nerd, Willow Rosenberg.   
  
"Can you imagine that?" Harmony crowed. "Now, as totally   
uncool as Xander is, I had to admit, Cordy didn't have to worry   
about him cheating on her. I'm mean, who else would have   
him? But boy was I wrong. There was somebody who'd have   
him. Who knew Willow had it in her? I mean, when's the last   
time she took her nose out of a book?"  
  
The girls gathered around Harmony giggled appreciatively. It   
was important to laugh at the right places in her stories.  
  
Harmony scanned the crowd for fresh meat. The Xander/Cordy   
story was already getting old.  
  
To her delight, she spotted someone who could breathe new   
life into the drama.  
  
"Oh, look who's here!" she said with a malicious sparkle in her   
eye. "Jezebel Rosenberg herself! Who's that she's with? She's   
already got another one on the line?"  
  
Willow had just come in with a pale, but unquestionably   
attractive man. He was thin, almost to the point of being gaunt.   
His hair was bleached to white and he was dressed entirely in   
black, including a black leather duster. Definitely not Miss   
Nerd 1998's speed. He might need rescuing, Harmony told   
herself.  
  
----------------  
  
Willow spotted Harmony almost as quickly. She looked around   
to see who else she recognized. She tapped Spike's arm.  
  
"OK, see the blonde nitwit over there?" she said, indicating   
Harmony.  
  
Spike nodded. "Not bad. We'll give it to her. See if she falls for   
me."  
  
Willow shook her head. "Nope. I'm not that mad at you.   
Believe me, you don't want to go there. I've got something else   
in mind." She pointed at a boy in a letter jacket on the opposite   
side of the dance floor. "See the guy with the vacant expression   
over there? That's Jason Halloway -- captain of the football   
team. Harmony has been drooling over him since September.   
He hasn't noticed her. He can pretty much have any girl he   
wants -- among the brain-dead set, that is. We'll give it to him,   
and make sure Harmony is the next girl he sees. Will that do?"  
  
Spike nodded. "Show me some romance and I'm out of your   
life."  
  
Willow seemed nervous. She was glancing around as if she   
was looking for escape routes. But that was to be expected,   
Spike told himself. He was confident he could keep her under   
control. If she tried to bolt, he'd have hands on her before she   
could finish her first step.  
  
They meandered over toward the football star's table. Willow   
went up to him to distract him.  
  
"Jason, how's that math homework coming?" Willow said.  
  
"What can I say," the boy said smugly. "Found someone else to   
do it for me. So you won't have to sully your pristine ethics."  
  
"Oh, that's OK. Glad it's working out for you," Willow said.   
She saw Spike move up behind Jason and pour a few drops of   
the potion into his drink. "Talk to you later." She stepped out of   
his direct line of sight.   
  
Jason picked up his cup and took a drink, and Willow pointed   
across the dance floor.  
  
"Hey, Jason. Isn't that Harmony over there?"  
  
He looked across and shrugged. "Yeah, what of it?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I think she was looking for you earlier."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"OK, see ya later."  
  
Willow moved away and Spike came back to stand by her.  
  
"Didn't hear any birds singing in the trees, love," he said with a   
frown.  
  
"Give it a couple of minutes. She was the first one he looked at.   
Now it just needs time to take hold."  
  
Spike could tell that Willow was getting more nervous.   
Probably not sure it's going to work. Well, we'll see, he told   
himself.  
  
They moved to the edge of the room to watch and wait. They   
didn't have to wait for long. Willow's trip to talk to Jason had   
drawn Harmony's eyes in that direction and now Willow was   
forgotten.  
  
She made her way across the room to put what she imagined   
were killer moves on the object of her affection.  
  
She walked up to his table, swishing her hips and giving him   
her best "I'd love to see the back seat of your car" smile.  
  
"Hey, Jason. Didn't know you were going to be here tonight,"   
she said, batting her eyelashes. She punctuated the sentence by   
licking her lips in what she thought was a lascivious manner.  
  
"Harmony, what a surprise," Jason said with a slight frown.  
  
"So, you here with anybody," she asked.  
  
"Yeah. The guys are up getting more drinks," he said.  
  
"Oh, I just thought you might like to come over with us. We'd   
love to have you," she said.  
  
"No thanks."  
  
"Oh... well, OK."  
  
"You quite through?" he asked with a frown.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I just wondered if you were through trying to push your tits in   
my face. I'd like to start breathing again."  
  
"What?" The blonde looked confused.  
  
"Do you bathe in that cheap perfume. You really stink."  
  
Harmony's face fell. She backed off a step.  
  
"Why are you being so mean to me?"  
  
"Because I'm disgusted. You come over here trying to spear me   
like I'm a piece of meat. Well, I'm not interested. I'm less than   
not interested. I wouldn't go anywhere with you if you   
undressed and painted goal posts on your ass."  
  
"You creep!" Harmony said angrily. "See if I'm ever nice to   
you again. You had your chance, bucko. Never again."  
  
"Good!" Jason said, standing up and giving her an ugly look.   
"Nothing could make me happier than knowing you won't be   
creeping around me wiggling your skanky ass."  
  
"If I ever see you again, I'm just going to walk away,"   
Harmony said, trying to think of something withering to say,   
but failing utterly.  
  
"So go away, you cow," Jason sneered.  
  
"I'm going!"  
  
She turned and stalked back across the dance floor, bumping   
into several couples on the way.  
  
Spike looked down at Willow. A wide smile had spread across   
her face. He cleared his throat. The smile disappeared, and she   
looked up at him -- worried.  
  
"You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?"  
  
Willow swallowed hard and nodded.  
  
"The potion is a doublecross, right?"  
  
She nodded again, looking abashed.  
  
"What is it really?"  
  
"De-lusting potion. Makes people disgusted with each other.   
You're going to kill me now?"  
  
Spike gave her a hard look. "So, you had a grudge against the   
blonde?"  
  
Willow sighed. "I knew I was screwed as soon as you said we   
had to test the potion. So, I thought I might as well get   
something out of it. Yeah... Harmony isn't exactly my best   
friend."  
  
"So, you want me to walk you home?"  
  
"Walk me home?"  
  
"Yeah, not safe out there. Never know who you're going to run   
into."  
  
"You're not going to kill me?"  
  
"Nah... as doublecrosses go that one was pretty good. I think I   
like you." He smiled. "You gotta love a girl who decides to use   
her last moments on earth to get revenge on someone. You're   
my kind of girl."  
  
"You're not going to insist on a real love potion?"  
  
"I think I'll pass. Who knows what you're going to cook up   
next time. I've wasted enough time around here."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
"Disappointed?"  
  
"Um... no. I guess not."  
  
"Let's go. I want to be far from this town before sunrise. I'll   
give you one promise. You'll never see me around here again."  
  
  
**********  
I didn't know if it was day or night  
I started kissin' everything in sight  
But when I kissed a cop down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine  
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion No. 9  
********** 


	16. The EightFold Path

Countdown: The Eight-Fold Path  
By ElsaF  
  
Spoilers: We're back in the 24-verse, which went AU after   
Dead Things.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Spike and Buffy didn't   
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's refusal to tell   
her friends about Spike led to a break up a little while later.   
Buffy finally made up her mind, and "came out" only to   
discover that everyone who mattered already knew. The Nerds   
have been raided and Jonathan and Andrew are in the   
Sunnydale jail. Warren escaped and came back to shoot Buffy   
and Xander. Buffy was injured but not critically. Xander would   
have died, but Willow intervened with Osiris, god of the dead,   
to prevent him from crossing over. The price for saving   
Xander's life was Willow's soul. Meanwhile, a very urban   
vampire is wandering in the wilderness, looking for his.  
  
  
  
**************  
The Noble Eightfold Path, discovered by the Buddha Himself,   
is the only way to Nirvana. It consists of the following eight   
factors:  
  
1.Right Understanding   
2.Right Thoughts   
3.Right Speech   
4.Right Action   
5.Right Livelihood   
6.Right Effort   
7.Right Mindfulness   
8.Right Concentration  
  
"When you yourself know that a thing is good, that it is not   
blamable, that it is praised by the wise and when practiced and   
observed that it leads to happiness, then follow that thing."  
  
-- Buddha  
**************  
  
  
Spike had had about enough of the wilderness. The trees and   
bushes grabbed at his coat. He'd had to stop and untangle his   
duster more times than he could count. And the appeal of this   
landscape escaped him. What was the point of "protecting" an   
area like this? The scrub vegetation was ugly. The ground was   
dry and the grass was brown. The trees were scraggly.  
  
Fresh air -- what was it good for? He wanted a cigarette -- bad.   
He regretted leaving them behind. And there were no pubs.   
What he wouldn't give for a pint right now.  
  
Vermin -- nasty little ground squirrels and lizards. Little   
animals that scrabbled through the underbrush -- he could hear   
them day and night. During the uncomfortable day huddled   
under his coat, flies had buzzed around his face. He had a   
suspicion that there were snakes out here -- though he hadn't   
seen any. Nobody needed to go where there were snakes.  
  
And the few people he'd run across were unaccountably   
cheerful. What was there to be cheerful about out here? He   
gave campsites wide berth, avoiding other hikers whenever he   
could.  
  
The path he was following angled upward as it wound through   
the thin, stunted forest. He wasn't sure what direction he was   
traveling. It was a cloudy night, so there weren't even any stars   
to navigate by. It was dark -- not so dark that a vampire   
couldn't see, but dark just the same. What this place needed   
was some streetlights.  
  
He came around a bend in the path and found himself on the   
edge of a clearing. Definitely not sacred grove material. It was   
just a somewhat open area covered by dry grass and weeds.   
Near the center there was a boulder, and someone was sitting   
cross-legged on it. Spike's first thought was to turn around and   
go back -- find another way up this hill. But then he realized   
that the person on the rock had no camping equipment -- no   
backpack, no canteen, no binoculars, no compass. In fact, he   
was wearing a business suit. OK, not a run-of-the-mill hiker.   
Spike walked toward the figure.  
  
About halfway across the open space, the person on the rock   
raised his head and looked directly at Spike. He recognized   
who he was walking toward and stopped abruptly.   
  
It was Doc. He looked no different from when Spike had last   
seen him, on the tower as he prepared to cut the Niblet and end   
the world. He was still a small, unassuming figure with a   
slightly pixyish face. His tail came out from under his suit   
jacket and was curled in his lap.  
  
Spike was torn between the desire to go forward and tear the   
little demon's head off, and the more reasonable idea of turning   
around and getting as far away from him as possible. He wasn't   
afraid -- not of Doc. He was afraid that giving in to vengeance,   
now, during this quest, might be exactly what it took to fail.  
  
On the other hand, Doc wasn't an agent of good -- not by any   
stretch of the imagination. Defeating and killing Doc might be   
exactly what was expected of him.  
  
"I'm not one of your challenges, if that's what you're   
wondering," the demon said calmly.  
  
"Then I can kill you, and it won't make any difference," Spike   
said with a snarl, moving closer.  
  
"You should know by now that I'm pretty hard to kill. You of   
all people. But that's neither here nor there. I'm here to help   
you."  
  
"Help me? Please... You're no friend of mine."  
  
"No, I'm not your friend. But I have been an admirer."  
  
"Pull the other one."  
  
"Really. I worship chaos. And in your day, you were as   
powerful an agent of chaos as I've ever seen."  
  
"So you're going to help me win a soul," Spike said skeptically.  
  
"No, I didn't say that. I really don't think that would be helping   
you."  
  
"That's what I'm here for. So if you can't help me with that, get   
out of my way."  
  
"Now, now, don't be cranky. I'm here in good faith. You want a   
soul. But you don't understand what you're asking for. You   
may very well win it -- thought it's far from a sure thing. It's   
going to be very difficult for you. But here's the thing: If you   
do win it, it's not going to make you happy. Far from it.  
  
"Go back, Spike. You are what you are. Embrace yourself. You   
can have anything you want -- without taking this step. Even   
the Slayer. You don't need a soul."  
  
"She'll never accept me as I am."  
  
"She already has."  
  
"You're lying. You've come to weaken my resolve."  
  
"Well, that's true -- about weakening your resolve. That's   
exactly what I'm here for. But I'm telling you the truth about   
the Slayer."  
  
"Why should you care about my soul?"  
  
"I worship chaos. There are only two real forces in the   
universe: chaos and order. Good and evil? That's nonsense.   
Anything that's good for someone is bad for someone else --   
same goes for evil. No -- the great battle of the cosmos isn't   
good and evil; it's chaos against order.  
  
"You've been a powerful force of chaos. You can be again. But   
souls -- souls are all about order. A soul gives you a framework   
for your behavior. It doesn't change who you are. It won't make   
you good. It won't keep you from hurting people. Souled   
beings do harm every day. You've lost your way, Spike. Look   
at you, wandering around on this butt-ugly mountainside,   
looking for what?   
  
"I'm here to get you pointed back where you belong."  
  
"You're right when you say I'm lost. But you're wrong when   
you say I don't know what I'm looking for."  
  
"You know when you got lost?"  
  
"When they put this chip in my head," Spike replied. "It   
changed everything."  
  
Doc laughed. "I know it must seem that way to you. But that   
wasn't what knocked you catty-wompus. You could have gone   
on mixing things up, just like you always did. You even tried   
for a while. And as far as the universe is concerned, it wouldn't   
have made that much difference if you were wreaking havoc on   
the demon world rather than the human world. The universe   
isn't as focused on humans as humans seem to think.  
  
"No, the chip was a bump in the road, but it really didn't have   
to make so much difference."  
  
"If it wasn't the chip, what was it?"  
  
"Like everything else that really matters, it came from you --   
not that bit of technology in your brain. You started forming   
attachments to living beings. That's what screwed you up."  
  
"Don't happen to believe that's what's wrong, mate."  
  
"Attachments -- they're a sort of order. Connections. You   
decide what to do based on how it's going to affect the people   
you care about. Next thing you know, you're part of the   
establishment -- a home, a mortgage, a new car in the   
driveway. You're doing everything to please the little woman.   
It's order creeping in to quell chaos, and it has to be stopped."  
  
"Not like I never cared for anyone before. There was   
Drusilla..."  
  
"Ah, but Drusilla is chaos incarnate. Nothing orderly there."  
  
"You're full of it."  
  
"If you win your soul, you may very well win the Slayer's heart   
as well. In fact, I can't see it happening any other way --   
particularly since she's already given in. Oh, there's some   
danger that she won't like the changed you as much as she   
liked the original -- but like or not, she loves you and she's   
yours. But, Spike my boy, that doesn't mean you're going to be   
happy."  
  
"It's not about being happy. It's about being what she needs."  
  
"You're reaching for a permanent solution to a temporary   
problem here. Let's just say you get your soul. You deal with   
the emotional pain it's going to cause you. You go back and the   
Slayer is waiting for you. Happily ever after? I don't think so.  
  
"She's a mortal. If she doesn't cash it next week or the week   
after in some insignificant battle with the monster of the   
moment, she's still going to go old and die. You won't. What   
are you going to do once she's gone?"  
  
"Maybe I'll go down next week or the week after in some   
insignificant battle with the monster of the moment. Who   
knows? I'm going to try to make her happy for as long as I   
can."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"When it's all over, I'll know I did the best I could."  
  
"But you still haven't answered the question."  
  
Spike thought for a moment.  
  
"Making the Slayer happy -- that's just part of it. Making her   
happy will make me feel like I've done something right. But in   
the end, it's not really about her. It's about me. I can't keep   
going the way I've been. It's not because I don't want to be evil   
any more. It's that I can't go on without changing. To stay the   
same is to stop living. I stopped living more than a century ago.   
I've been marking time -- continuing but not growing.  
  
"'When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child,   
I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away   
childish things.' It's time for me to stop being a child and   
become a man."  
  
"Oh please... Christianity. All about rules," Doc shuddered.   
"You're not going to take holy orders are you?"  
  
"Don't suppose I'm any sort of a Christian -- not anymore. Not   
after what I've been up to all this time. But still, I know I have   
to change. And I can't change unless I understand. That's what   
the soul is about -- understanding. I can't go on blindly. I want   
to see again."  
  
Doc's face twisted into a sneer. "You want understanding. How   
orderly of you. Well, don't say I didn't warn you."  
  
Spike started walking again, passing the boulder and Doc   
without another look.  
  
"Have a nice day," the demon called after him.  
  
------------------  
  
It was early-morning in Sunnydale when Dawn answered the   
door, still in her pajamas. Anya was on the front porch.  
  
"I heard what happened. I brought a covered dish," she said   
with forced cheerfulness.  
  
"Anya!" Dawn said in surprise. "A covered dish?"  
  
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" she asked.  
  
"Um... that's for funerals. Nobody died."  
  
"Oh, that's good. I mean, it's good that nobody died. I guess I   
look a little foolish with this dish now."  
  
"Dawn, who's there?" Buffy called down from upstairs.  
  
"It's Anya," the teenager replied.  
  
Buffy came down the stairs struggling to get a T-shirt over her   
injured shoulder.  
  
"Buffy, you should stay in bed."  
  
"No way. I'm fine. Aren't you going to ask Anya in?"  
  
"I can only stay a minute. I've got to go open up the store."  
  
"Can we offer you some breakfast -- what have you got there?"  
  
"A covered dish, but Dawn informs me that it was not the   
correct item to bring when people have been injured."  
  
"Flowers are more traditional," Dawn offered.  
  
"Oh, flowers. I see."  
  
"But a covered dish is quite thoughtful," Buffy said looking at   
Anya's burden -- a clear, pyrex covered bowl -- empty.  
  
"What do they want a bunch of dishes for at a funeral?" Anya   
asked.  
  
"Um ... I'm not sure. I think it's a tradition whose roots are lost   
to antiquity. Come on, cereal and milk in the kitchen."  
  
"You sit down and relax, Buffy. I'll get it," Dawn offered.  
  
"I could get used to this," Buffy replied with a smile.  
  
Dawn laid out cereal bowls and got out the milk and a box of   
Raisin Bran.  
  
"Wonder where Willow is. I'll go up and see if she's still   
sleeping," Dawn said. "She's usually up by now." Dawn left to   
look for Willow.  
  
"Um... So, are you feeling better, Buffy?" Anya asked, though   
her tone indicated she wanted to ask something different.  
  
"Yes, I'm mending like a Slayer. And I understand Xander is a   
lot better, too."  
  
"Oh..." Anya said, looking down. "You understand, I could   
care less. In fact, I hope he's in great pain."  
  
Buffy cocked her head to the side and gave Anya a long look.  
  
"Oh, OK. I'm glad he didn't die." She looked like she might be   
about to cry.  
  
"It's all right," Buffy said gently. "You can be angry with him,   
but still be glad that he's going to be OK."  
  
Anya looked up, her eyes shining with tears. "That's not it."   
She let out a sob. "I was wishing that something horrible would   
happen to him. I wanted him to be in pain. I wanted him to be   
hurt the way I was hurting."  
  
"That's understandable. He really hurt you."  
  
"But I couldn't really hurt him -- by wishing. I mean, as a   
vengeance demon, you can only grant wishes for others. You   
can't do it for yourself."  
  
"But you're not a vengeance demon anymore..."  
  
Anya looked up at her and suddenly Buffy knew.  
  
"Oh, God, Anya..."  
  
"After the ... D'Hoffryn came to me. I felt so lost. I didn't think   
I could go on being human. Everything I'd lived for these few   
years was gone..."  
  
Buffy took a deep breath.   
  
"OK. I guess I can understand. But this doesn't have anything   
to do with Xander getting shot."  
  
"I was just so afraid," Anya said between sobs. "I know I   
couldn't curse him directly. But, then I heard about the   
shooting -- and I started wondering if there was some exception   
-- and I had caused it."  
  
"No, this wasn't your fault. I'm sure of it. Warren is perfectly   
capable of doing harm entirely by himself. He doesn't need any   
help from anybody."  
  
"You understand, I'm still angry with Xander," Anya said   
forcefully. "So I couldn't go to the hospital to see how he   
was..."  
  
Buffy smiled. "Yeah, I get that. It's OK. If you like, we'll keep   
you posted."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Anya, about this vengeance demon thing..."  
  
"Buffy! Something's wrong with Willow!" Dawn shouted from   
the living room. 


	17. The Seventh Circle of Hell

Countdown: The Seventh Circle of Hell  
By ElsaF  
  
Spoilers: We're in the 24-verse today, which split off after   
Dead Things.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Buffy and Spike didn't   
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's unwillingness   
to acknowledge Spike publicly meant they broke up soon   
afterward. Buffy came to her senses and told her friends about   
Spike, only to discover that they already knew and weren't   
shocked. She went to tell him the secret was out, but he'd   
already left town to change himself into someone she would be   
willing to be seen with. Meanwhile, the Scoobies raided the   
Nerds, and Jonathan and Andrew are in custody. Warren   
escaped and came back to shoot Buffy and Xander. Buffy was   
injured but not critically. Xander would have died, but Willow   
intervened with Osiris to prevent him from crossing over. The   
price for saving Xander's life was Willow's soul.  
  
  
  
  
In the trusty ward  
We held the margin of the purple flood  
That seethed beneath us. In the boiling blood  
Were spirits to the brows immersed.  
  
"Ye see,"  
Said Nessus, "tyrants who by the weight of sword  
Spread death and rapine in their lands."  
  
Description of the first round of the seventh circle of Hell.  
-- The Inferno, Dante Alighieri  
  
  
  
The clouds parted and revealed a half moon overhead. Spike   
walked along the edge of a rock face that dropped to another   
section of the trail about twenty feet below. In the pale   
moonlight, he could see the path he'd already traversed dappled   
with shadows.   
  
He was feeling encouraged. Seeing Doc gave him the notion   
that he was on the right track. The demon didn't belong in this   
wilderness any more than he did. If Doc had been called to   
stand in his way, he must be getting closer to his goal.  
  
He stopped for a moment and listened to the breeze sifting   
through the trees behind him. It was past midnight and the   
world was quiet. There was no traffic noise, no background of   
machinery, radios and televisions, air conditioners and power   
lines to mix in with the sounds of the earth. He was mildly   
surprised at how much he could hear now. He was so   
accustomed to the low rumble of urban life, he'd forgotten the   
sharp, clear sounds of the world stripped clean.   
  
There was the sound of an owl landing on a tree branch some   
fifty yards away, then the soft whirring of its wings as it took   
off again. The light skittering of some small animal on the   
ground a bit closer. There was the quiet splash of a stream   
falling over the rock face to his right -- little more than a drip in   
this dry season. Without the ever-present scent of gasoline   
exhausts, the world smelled different. He could pick out   
several different animal scents, and the faint trace of humans,   
and the pleasant sweetness of the grass and dirt beneath his   
feet. To his own amusement, he was starting to warm to nature.  
  
He become fully alert when he heard the high-pitched snarl of   
a cougar. He hadn't smelled it -- it was upwind, and from the   
sound, below him on the trail. The snarl was followed by a   
human cry.  
  
"No! Mandy! Don't run!"  
  
There were frantic footfalls. Whoever Mandy was, she hadn't   
taken the warning and was doing the worst thing possible.   
Running could only heighten the cougar's predatory instincts.   
  
The girl came into sight running for her life. It was a doomed   
flight -- the big cat could easily outpace her, both in the sprint   
and the long run. The animal was close behind her. Almost at   
the moment the girl burst into view, the cat leapt at her. It may   
well have outweighed her -- she was a small teenager and the   
cat was a large male. She was a swift runner -- for a human --   
but not swift enough. The cat hit her in the middle of her back,   
wrapping its paws around her middle. She took another step   
before she fell forward. The cat advanced up her body to aim   
its fangs at the back of her neck.  
  
Spike reacted in less than a fraction of a second. He leapt from   
the cliff edge and hit the trail below only a yard or so from the   
cat and its prey. He came down in a crouch and leapt again,   
hitting the animal from the side and knocking it away from the   
girl. It faced him in a crouch now, letting out another fierce   
snarl, its ears flattened to its head and its tail twitching.  
  
Spike showed it fangs to match. He snarled back, his game face   
mirroring the animal's ferocity. It pounced and Spike leapt   
forward to meet it in mid-air where it didn't have the advantage   
of leverage against the ground. He drove it back and up,   
flipping it so it landed on its back. He came down on top of it,   
burying his hands in the fur of its neck. The cat clawed and   
struggled beneath him, but he held it tight, working for the   
purchase he needed to snap its neck.  
  
With a sudden, desperate burst of strength, the cougar twisted   
its body and escaped his grip. It leapt away and turned to face   
him again, snarling. But it knew it was overmatched, and   
turned to slink away into the underbrush.  
  
Spike shook off his game face and turned to check on the girl.   
She was unconscious. There was a deep gash on her thigh   
where the cat's back claws had dug in when it went for her   
neck. Her leg was bleeding profusely. There were tooth marks   
on her neck, but he'd knocked the animal away before it could   
bite down and sever her spinal cord. There were more deep   
scratches on her sides and shoulders where the cat had gripped   
her. She was wearing denim cutoff shorts and a T-shirt. The   
shirt was now soaked in the blood from the gashes on her upper   
body. She had short-cropped dark red hair spiked with gel, the   
tips colored an unnatural purple. She looked young -- maybe a   
year older than Dawn.  
  
"Oh my God!" said a woman's voice nearby. A second woman,   
a little older than the girl on the ground came running up. She   
was short, and thin, with dark, curly hair. It was the voice he'd   
first heard warning "Mandy" not to run.  
  
"Is she ..."  
  
"She's not dead," Spike said. "But she's hurt."  
  
"You fought off the lion," the woman said in awe. "I've never   
seen anything like that."  
  
"You have a first aid kit?"   
  
The woman nodded and ran back toward her camp site.  
  
A dark pool was forming on the ground under the injured girl's   
leg. Spike knew she'd bleed to death if the flow wasn't stopped,   
soon. Odd, he thought to himself, he knew almost to the minute   
how long it would be before her heart started to flutter from not   
having enough blood to pump. How strange that his century of   
experience killing was now telling him he had to act quickly to   
save this girl.  
  
He unfastened his belt and pulled off to use for a tourniquet.   
He fastened it on her thigh above the wound and tightened it   
until the blood flow slowed. The girl moaned.   
  
The sharp odor of her blood filled Spike's nose. He had to stop   
breathing to stop smelling it. He was hungry -- it had been two   
days since he'd fed. And this was blood he could drink without   
activating his chip. He looked at the dark stains spreading   
across the girl's shirt. His stomach fluttered -- begging to be   
satisfied. But he didn't consider bending down to lick her body   
clean. He'd moved beyond that long ago. He didn't feed on   
humans -- not unless he could pick up a packet at the blood   
bank. Humans were not food. The realization came to him as a   
bit of a shock.  
  
He'd tried to feed on a human woman not too many months ago   
-- when he'd thought his chip had stopped working. He   
remembered how he'd felt that night. On a rational level he'd   
believed that he could feed on humans again and that to do so   
would be completely natural. But something else had   
intervened to hold him back. He'd looked at the frightened   
woman he'd cornered in that alley and he'd seen her as kin to   
the people he cared about -- Dawn, Buffy, the red-headed   
witch, her soft-eyed lover. He knew that if the chip hadn't fired,   
he would have gone through with it -- because he'd believed   
that was what he was supposed to do. But he also knew he   
would have suffered overwhelming guilt because of it. The   
chip's pain had almost been a kindness.   
  
Guilt -- when had that become part of his emotional landscape?   
He wasn't sure when it had arrived, but somehow it had taken   
up residence and become his constant companion.  
  
"Stay quiet, love," he said. "Don't struggle. It'll just make you   
bleed more."  
  
The other woman returned with a small, blue plastic box. Spike   
doubted there was anything inside that would be useful against   
injuries this severe. The girl started to shake. The blood loss   
was sapping her body temperature. She'd be suffering   
hypothermia soon, even though the night's temperature was   
quite mild.  
  
Spike stripped out of his coat and put it over the girl to keep   
her warm. The other woman knelt on the other side of the girl.  
  
"She's bad, isn't she?" the woman asked.  
  
Spike nodded.  
  
"We've got to get her out of here."  
  
"Do you have a cell phone? We could call for help. They might   
be able to get a helicopter to us."  
  
The woman shook her head. "Didn't bring it. They don't work   
out here. Too far from the nearest tower, and the mountains are   
too high."  
  
"Then we'll have to carry her out," Spike said. Then he   
hesitated. If he helped these women, he'd have to walk back out   
of the mountains, back to the trailhead where he'd started. It   
would take the rest of the night, if not longer. He would have to   
abandon his quest.   
  
If this wasn't part of the challenge, he thought, suddenly   
realizing that he didn't know how much of what he was   
experiencing was real. Had Doc really been in that clearing? Or   
was he just an apparition sent to test his resolve? How was he   
supposed to know? Would saving this girl's life cost him his   
chance at his soul? Or would abandoning her mean failure?   
The girl's blood smelled real enough. Surely the girl was flesh   
and blood.  
  
Easy one, he told himself. You don't gain a soul by letting   
someone you can help die. He was certain that was the answer   
Buffy would have come up with.   
  
"We can cut some branches and make a stretcher," the woman   
said.  
  
"No need," Spike replied. He wrapped the coat farther around   
the girl and picked her up, a limp bundle of black leather.  
  
"It's miles back out to the road. You can't carry her all that   
way!"  
  
"Sure I can, love. No problem. Let's go. We need to get her to a   
hospital as fast as we can."  
  
He took off walking briskly.  
  
"Who are you?" the woman asked, as she hurried to keep up   
with him.  
  
"You can call me Spike," he said. "And you are?"  
  
"Karen Davis. That's my sister, Mandy."  
  
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Karen."  
  
"What are you doing out here?"  
  
"Same as you, I'd think," Spike replied.  
  
"Dressed like that?"  
  
"Just another fashion victim, love."  
  
"I've never seen anything like the way you fought off that cat,"   
Karen said breathlessly. Spike realized she had to struggle to   
keep up with him, but he didn't want to slow down   
-- first because Mandy needed urgent medical attention, second   
because he knew he had to get to where he could turn the girl   
over to someone before sunrise.  
  
"Nothing special, pet. A predator like that'll give up if you put   
up enough resistance. It doesn't want to fight. Just wants an   
easy meal."  
  
"Do you think she'll be OK?" Karen asked, her voice trembling   
with worry.  
  
"I hope so." He could feel Mandy's heart beat, rapid, but   
steady. It didn't have the flutter that preceded arrest. There was   
a good chance she'd make it, if they could get her to help in   
time.  
  
"I brought her out here so we could have some time alone.   
We've grown apart. I thought this would be a good way to bond   
-- no TV, no radio, no boyfriends calling. God I wish I'd opted   
for dinner out and a long talk."  
  
"It's hard to know what's going to happen. Don't blame   
yourself."  
  
"She ran because the cat was coming at me," Karen said with a   
sob. "She's always been a good runner. She's on the track team   
at school."  
  
"Never saw a person who could outrun a lion," Spike said.  
  
"No, she didn't have a chance."  
  
"You like a mum to her?"  
  
"Not really. She's still at home. I got married a couple years   
ago. Mom and Dad hated Rick, so I sort of lost touch for a bit.   
Turns out they were right. After my divorce, I came back. But   
things have been a little awkward. I just wanted to spend some   
time alone with Mandy. Thought we could talk about Mom and   
Dad, and somehow I could tell her to listen -- I could tell her   
not to make the mistakes I did."  
  
"So, was she listening?"  
  
Karen shrugged.   
  
"Well, it's good you were trying."  
  
"You're from England, aren't you?" Karen asked, changing the   
subject.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What brought you to California? You just visiting?"  
  
Spike laughed. "Been here for years, pet. Came for a quick   
visit, and ended up staying. Can't seem to get away."  
  
"What part of England?"  
  
"London."  
  
"Always wanted to go there."  
  
They walked in silence for a while. Spike heard Karen's   
labored breathing. She was flagging. He knew they'd have to   
stop and rest before too long -- either that, or he'd have to leave   
her behind.   
  
The wind shifted, bringing a new mixture of scents to Spike's   
attention. He tensed, but covered it up, not wanting to alarm his   
companion.  
  
The cougar hadn't given up. It was stalking them.  
  
------------  
  
Willow sat on the sofa staring blankly into space. Dawn, Buffy   
and Anya gathered around her, trying to get her attention, but   
she seemed deaf and blind. She was unquestionably alive. Her   
chest rose and fell as she breathed and she had a steady pulse,   
but she was completely unresponsive.   
  
"What's wrong with her, Buffy?" Dawn asked plaintively.  
  
"I don't know," her sister answer slowly. "She's in some sort of   
coma."  
  
Anya stood a step or two back, watching with increasingly   
horrified eyes.  
  
Then, without warning, Willow blinked. She seemed to snap to   
attention. She looked around at the three women staring at her   
and frowned.  
  
"What's going on?" she asked.  
  
"You were completely zoned out, Willow," Buffy said with   
concern.   
  
"I was just tired," Willow replied. "Nothing to worry about."  
  
"It was from the magic you used yesterday, wasn't it?" Buffy   
asked.  
  
"No! Of course not. That wasn't anything. It was just all the   
stress yesterday. I'm fine, really."  
  
"Buffy..." Anya said quietly.  
  
"Not now, Anya. Willow, I think we should take you back to   
the doctor and have you looked at. You're really not looking   
too good."  
  
"Buffy..."  
  
Buffy gestured for Anya to be quiet.  
  
"I'm fine," Willow said adamantly.  
  
"Buffy! Her soul is gone!" Anya blurted out.  
  
"What?"  
  
Buffy turned back to Willow. "What happened? What did you   
do?"  
  
"You asked me to," Willow said in a tiny voice. "You begged   
me to help Xander."  
  
"I asked... when?"  
  
"When you first woke up ... in the recovery room."  
  
"But how?"  
  
"It doesn't matter now."  
  
"I thought humans died when their souls were removed," Buffy   
said quietly.  
  
"They usually do," Anya replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "But   
Willow has so much magic in her. That's what's keeping her   
going now. I can sense that too."  
  
"Oh, Willow..." Buffy said, her voice betraying deep sorrow.  
  
"Buffy, really, it's not a problem," Willow said with a forced   
smile. "See? I'm fine. No problem. I'm still me. I still talk the   
same way, still think the same way. I'll still be your friend and   
helper. So I operate a little differently now. It's not going to be   
a problem."  
  
"I never meant you to..."  
  
"I know, Buffy. You were disoriented. You just wanted to   
know he was OK. I get that. It's not your fault. I wanted to help   
him. I couldn't just let him die that way." She looked over at   
Dawn. "See Dawnie, you and me have something in common   
now. We're not real."   
  
She reached out for the teenager, but Dawn backed up.  
  
"Don't touch me," Dawn said.  
  
----------------  
  
Karen marveled at her knight and protector for the twentieth or   
thirtieth time that night. He'd come out of nowhere when   
Mandy was attacked. He'd tended her wounds, wrapped her in   
his coat and carried her for miles.  
  
Now, he was preparing to do battle for them once again.  
  
They'd been walking along the path when he suddenly stopped   
and sniffed the air.  
  
"It's following," he said quietly. "It can smell her blood. We're   
leaving a trail that any blind tosser could follow."   
  
He'd then proceeded to find a sheltered spot to set Karen's   
sister down.  
  
"Listen to me carefully, love," he'd said. "Whatever happens   
now, whatever you see, you have to stand your ground. I'm   
going to take care of the cat, but you have to stay with little sis   
and protect her. You can't run -- no matter what happens. That   
will only make things worse."  
  
Karen nodded.   
  
"That's my girl."  
  
He then stripped off his black T-shirt and handed it to her.  
  
"Why?" she asked.  
  
"It's got her blood on it," he explained. "I don't want him   
smelling me coming."   
  
He'd then taken off his boots, undoubtedly to quiet his   
footfalls. He'd stood there pale, shining white in the moonlight   
for a moment, and Karen thought the looked like a magnificent   
animal. He was lithe as the cat that followed them, and easily   
more powerful. His skin was smooth and white as ivory. His   
platinum blond hair glistened faintly in the wan light.   
  
He listened for the animal that was stalking them for a moment,   
then he turned and disappeared into the underbrush, swiftly and   
silently.  
  
She sat down beside her unconscious sister then and waited.  
  
She heard nothing for several moments. The air was still. Even   
the breeze had stopped stirring the trees.  
  
Then there was a sudden thrashing in the underbrush close by.   
Karen huddled close to Mandy, holding her breath for fear of   
what she would see next.  
  
"Bloody hell!" came an exclamation from the shuddering   
bushes, and Spike and the cat burst out into the open space in   
front of Karen and her sister.  
  
He was tumbling over and over with the cougar, the two forms   
tangled together and writhing. Then he broke away and Karen   
could see deep claw marks glistening with dark blood across   
his chest. He dived at the cat again and they were rolling and   
tumbling once more.  
  
Suddenly, Spike was on top, standing over the cougar's back,   
his hands on the creature's head. He twisted sharply and Karen   
heard the animal's neck snap. Spike dropped the limp carcass,   
and stood up straight, his back to Karen and Mandy. He stood   
there for a moment composing himself before he turned back to   
face them and smiled.  
  
"Well, that was a bit of a dawdle," he said. He walked toward   
them with an easy rolling gate. Karen could see he was feeling   
triumphant.  
  
She looked beyond him to the dead cat and gasped. He saw the   
look on her face and stopped, puzzled. Then he turned around   
in time to see the cougar get up. First it rose to its four paws,   
then it stood on two legs. It's golden fir shifted and reformed,   
and it stood as a man. A very large, muscular man with the   
head of a lion.  
  
Spike looked in disbelief, and then swallowed hard.  
  
"Bugger." 


	18. The Sixth Commandment

Countdown: The Sixth Commandment  
By ElsaF  
  
Rating: PG-13 (violence)  
  
Spoilers: 24-verse again, where things diverged from ME's   
version after Dead Things.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Buffy and Spike didn't   
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's unwillingness   
to acknowledge Spike publicly meant they broke up soon   
afterward. Buffy came to her senses and told her friends about   
Spike, only to discover that they already knew and weren't   
shocked. She went to tell him the secret was out, but he'd   
already left town to change himself into someone she would be   
willing to be seen with. Meanwhile, the Scoobies raided the   
Nerds, and Jonathan and Andrew are in custody. Warren   
escaped and came back to shoot Buffy and Xander. Buffy was   
injured but not critically. Xander would have died, but Willow   
intervened with Osiris to prevent him from crossing over. The   
price for saving Xander's life was Willow's soul. Buffy knows,   
Dawn knows, Anya knows. Spike has been questing in the   
wilderness for a soul. He fought a cougar to protect two   
campers. But after he defeated it, it morphed into a lion-headed   
man demon.  
  
  
  
*************  
Thou shalt not kill.  
-- Exodus 20:13 KJV  
*************  
  
  
"Look, this is Willow getting up to go out in the kitchen and   
have some breakfast," Willow said, rising. "Perfectly normal."  
  
She rose and walked out, leaving Buffy, Dawn and Anya   
looking after her in mute surprise.  
  
"Can she go on that way?" Buffy asked Anya. "Won't her   
magic run out?"  
  
Anya shrugged. "Hard to say. Willow has always had a really   
strong connection to magic. She may be able to go on   
indefinitely."  
  
"Is she like a vampire now?" Dawn asked in a tiny voice.  
  
Anya shook her head. "She can go out in the sun and I don't   
think she's going to start drinking blood, if that's what you   
mean."  
  
"Oh... I guess that's part of it, but I mean about how she acts --   
without a soul..."  
  
"That wouldn't have to be bad," Buffy said, trying to find   
something positive to hold onto. "I mean, look at Spike. He   
doesn't have a soul, and he manages to be OK."  
  
Anya frowned. "But Spike has the chip. Before that..."  
  
"Yeah..." Buffy said in a tiny voice.  
  
"Anybody want pancakes?" Willow called from the kitchen.  
  
----------------  
  
Willow was standing at the stove holding a frying pan.   
  
"You don't have to keep staring at me that way," she said with   
a bit of exasperation. "I'm not going to spontaneously   
combust."  
  
"Sorry," Buffy said, averting her eyes.  
  
"Pancakes?" Willow repeated.  
  
"Um... we ate already."  
  
"OK, I'll just make a few for me then."  
  
She turned around and put the pan on the burner.   
  
"By the way, they're going to release Xander this afternoon,"   
she said as she poured some batter in the pan.  
  
"Already?" Buffy asked. "God, he almost died! And they're   
releasing him the next day?"  
  
"His insurance only covers minimal hospital stays," Willow   
said. "They really work to move them out. Soon as you're   
stable, it's arrivederci. He needs some rest and antibiotics and   
painkillers, and he'll need to go back in a week and get his   
stitches out -- but it's nothing we can't handle ... um... I said he   
could come here, Buffy -- I hope that's OK. I mean, since he's   
living alone now, he needs someone to look after him."  
  
"Of course it's OK!" Buffy replied.  
  
"Good, I'll go get him later."  
  
"I'm going to go to the store now," Anya said with a slight   
frown. "Don't want to be here when..."  
  
"Thanks, Anya," Buffy said kindly. "I'll call you later and let   
you know how it's going."  
  
The vengeance demon sighed. "Thanks." She picked up her   
dish and left.  
  
"Um... Willow," Buffy said awkwardly. "I just want you to   
know -- what you did -- I guess I understand. I might have   
done the same -- if I'd had the choice to make. I mean ... I'm   
really glad Xander's going to be all right, and ..."  
  
Willow smiled. "It's OK, Buffy. Really!"  
  
"I'm going to call Tara," Buffy said.  
  
Willow's face fell. "Why? No... don't. Not yet. Give me a little   
time to get used to this, OK?"  
  
"I think she should have a look at you," Buffy insisted.  
  
Willow shook her head. "Sooner or later..." she said. "But not   
yet... please... I'm not ready for that."  
  
"Are you sure? Maybe she can help..."  
  
Willow shook her head again. "I've got to get used to being this   
way first. She's going to see... well, I'd just like to get a better   
handle on what I am before I show it to someone I..."  
  
"All right," Buffy replied. "We'll wait. But you're going to have   
to face her soon."  
  
--------------  
  
They brought him back to the house with Buffy supporting him   
on one side and Willow on the other as they walked from the   
car to the porch. Buffy offered to carry him up the stairs, but he   
refused.  
  
"Leave me a little bit of dignity, Buff," he said. "We'll take it   
slow, but I'll make it."  
  
"OK, we're putting you in Dawn's room. She's going to sleep   
on the couch down here. Her room's the best place for you --   
right next to the bathroom."  
  
Xander nodded. He was pale and weak, but better than Buffy   
had expected.  
  
They got him into Dawn's bed, surrounded by her stuffed   
animals and N'Sync posters, and Willow went back to the car   
to get his things. Buffy sat down next to him.  
  
"Xander, I just want you to know that what you did, well I can't   
tell you how much it means."  
  
"You mean getting shot for you?"  
  
"Yeah... You saved my life."  
  
"Just an impulse, Buff. Didn't really have time to think about it.   
I probably would have chickened out if I'd really had to make a   
decision," he said, looking away.  
  
"No. When it really counts, you're always ready to put it on the   
line. That's what's so great about you, you know. You're not a   
superhero. You're just a guy who'll do anything he has to for   
the people he cares about."  
  
"You're better now, aren't you, Buffy?"  
  
"Well, Slayer healing... you know. I'm still a little sore. But I'll   
be OK in a day or so."  
  
"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, here I just saved your life   
and you're ... OK with it..."  
  
"Oh..." She looked away. "I guess I am. I hadn't even thought   
of that, but you're right. A few months ago, I'd be disappointed   
as hell to realize I could have died and here I am still alive.   
When did that happen? I didn't even notice." She smiled. "I'm   
alive, and I wouldn't want it any other way."  
  
She took his hand and squeeze it. "Thank you, Xander. Thank   
you for saving my life."  
  
"Any time, Buffy. Any time."  
  
----------------  
  
"Dawnie, you don't have to move away every time I get close   
to you," Willow said plaintively.  
  
"Who me?" Dawn said, avoiding her friend's eyes.  
  
"I'm not going to eat you, vaporize you or try to turn you gay."  
  
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just ... a little wigged. OK? I think I'm   
going to go over to Janice's. Her mom said I could come back   
anytime. I just want some time to think about all this, OK?"  
  
Dawn slammed the backdoor on her way out. Willow sighed   
and shook her head.  
  
---------------  
  
The phone rang.  
  
"Hello?" Buffy said, juggling the tray with the bowl of soup for   
Xander on one hand as she picked up the receiver.  
  
"Warren's coming back," said the agitated voice on the other   
end.  
  
"Anya, is that you?"  
  
"He's going to try again!"  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"He tried to get a wish from me. I don't know how he knew I   
was back in the business..."  
  
"You didn't ..."  
  
"No! Heavens! We have *some* standards! To get a vengeance   
wish you have to have been wronged. Not dying after he shot   
you doesn't entitle him to vengeance against you."  
  
"He's on his way here?"  
  
"He was but..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"He found Dawn."  
  
"What!? How do you know?"  
  
"Whether he's actually entitled to vengeance or not, he   
*thinks* he is, so I can sense him. And I can see a little bit of   
where he is and what's happening around him. He ran into her   
on the street. I'm going there now, but I wanted to let you know   
too. I don't know what I can do against him. I can't use any of   
my powers -- except for teleporting."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"Two blocks over from your house on Malvern."  
  
Buffy slammed the phone down.  
  
"Willow!" she shouted. "Where's Dawn?"  
  
Willow stuck her head out of the kitchen. "She said she was   
going to Janice's..."  
  
"Shit. You let her go? When there's a psycho out there on the   
loose who wants nothing more than to see all of us dead?"  
  
"I... I didn't think..."  
  
"Later!" She took off running.  
  
-------------------  
  
Dawn struggled, but Warren wasn't going to let go of her. His   
van was over the curb where he'd driven to cut her off when he   
spotted her walking down the sidewalk. He was dragging her   
toward the open back door of the vehicle, one arm clamped   
around her waist, the other hand holding the gun.  
  
"Let go of me! Help! Somebody help me!" Dawn shouted.  
  
"Come along," Warren said with a nasty smile. "I think this is   
going to be fun."  
  
"You shit. My sister is so going to tear your head off."  
  
"I think your sister is going to be very careful what she does   
about me now that I've got you."  
  
Warren startled when Anya appeared between him and the van,   
but he didn't loosen his grip on the teenager.  
  
"Let go of her," Anya said firmly.  
  
"Out of my way, bitch," he said. "Out of my way, or this little   
chicky is dead. Maybe you won't help me -- that's your loss.   
But you're not going to stop me either."  
  
"You're not going to get away with this," the vengeance demon   
said. "The Slayer is on her way."  
  
"Good. Maybe she'll enjoy seeing me blow this little brat's   
head off."  
  
"Never gonna happen," Buffy said, as she took a fighting   
stance in front of Warren.  
  
"Oh, I suppose you're so fast you can get over here and tear my   
arm off before I can squeeze the trigger?" He raised the gun to   
Dawn's head.   
  
"What then? You won't have your hostage any more, you'll   
have a lot of icky brains and blood all over your face, and I'll   
be on you before your heart beats again. And believe me, it   
won't beat again."  
  
"You're not going to move a muscle as long as I'm pointing this   
at her pretty little head. So I'm going to back up slowly with   
mini-bitch here, and I'm going to leave. And then you can   
spend the next week thinking about what I'm doing to her.   
Only you won't know where..."  
  
"Actually..." Anya piped up.  
  
"Think again, moron." Willow appeared behind Warren in a   
flash of purple light.  
  
"Say good bye to the brat," Warren sneered. His finger   
tightened on ... the banana in his hand. "What?"  
  
He dropped the piece of fruit and looked around in confusion.   
Dawn twisted away from him.  
  
"I've had about enough of you," Willow said calmly, advancing   
on him.  
  
"What are you going to do? Try to out geek me?"  
  
"You know what a geek is, Warren?" Willow said ominously.   
"It's someone who bites the heads off chickens. I don't know,   
but that might be fun. But maybe I'll try it with a snot-nosed,   
incompetent, high-school reject."  
  
"Willow," Buffy said slowly. "Let's let the police handle this   
now. All we have to do is hold him here while Anya goes and   
calls ..."  
  
"Why let the police have all the fun?" Willow said in a strange   
tone of voice.  
  
She took another step toward Warren and he backed away.  
  
"She's nuts," he said in a panicked voice. "Keep her away from   
me."  
  
"You're asking for *my* help?" Buffy said with a raised   
eyebrow.  
  
Willow gave him a smile as cold as ice. "You seem to be   
running out of friends."  
  
Warren looked around and decided to try to make a break for   
it. He got approximately two feet.  
  
"Freeze!" Willow commanded.  
  
Warren froze -- literally. Icicles hung from his chin and arms.   
Frost covered his skin and clothing.   
  
Willow walked around to face him.  
  
"Now you know how that guard at the museum felt. Empathy.   
It's important. Look it up sometime."  
  
Warren's eyes, the only thing he could move, darted back and   
forth.  
  
"Chilly? Oh. I'm sorry. Let me warm you up a bit."  
  
Flames leapt from the ground in a circle surrounding him.   
Warren screamed in pain as the ice melted and the water boiled   
scalding his skin. Then the water was gone and his skin started   
to blister.  
  
"Willow! That's enough! The police will be here in a moment.   
We're not going to torture him!" Buffy insisted.  
  
"No? That's not what I think," Willow replied casually. "I think   
I'm going to torture him a lot."  
  
Buffy leapt forward and tackled Warren, knocking him out of   
Willow's ring of fire. She rolled him on the ground, beating out   
the flames on his clothing.  
  
"You're ruining my fun," Willow said with a frown.   
  
"This isn't fun, Willow. It's sick!" Buffy said, keeping herself   
between Willow and the moaning Warren.  
  
"Don't be such a stick in the mud, Buffy. Tell me you don't   
want to see this creep suffer."  
  
"I don't want to see him suffer. I want to see him brought to   
justice."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "Then he can hire a fancy lawyer and   
get off with probation. I don't think so."  
  
She waved her hand and a force struck Buffy like a hurtling   
boulder. Buffy found herself flying through the air -- away   
from Warren. She scrambled to her feet in time to see Willow   
levitating the burned, moaning Warren.  
  
"Willow, don't do this..."  
  
"You want me to put him down?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Willow smiled, and Warren dropped to the ground -- hard. He   
screamed.  
  
"Willow. Please listen to me," Buffy said carefully. "You have   
to listen. Don't do this. You have to stop now."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because we don't kill people."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"He's a criminal, Willow. He shot me and Xander, he stole the   
diamond and he's robbed several banks. And I suspect he killed   
that girl -- Katrina. But we aren't the judge and jury. And we're   
not the executioners. He's going to have to face what he did,   
but it's not our job to punish him. It's not even our job to judge   
him."  
  
"Bored now."  
  
She pointed at Warren and a stream of flame poured from her   
hand. He shrieked in pain.   
  
The flames consumed him.  
  
Buffy watched in horror. Dawn screamed.  
  
"Dawnie..." Willow said. "He was going to hurt you..."  
  
"You said we were the same now," Dawn said with a sob. "We   
are not. We are so not the same." She backed away a few steps   
then turned and ran for home.  
  
"How could you?" Buffy asked. "How could you make Dawn   
see that?"  
  
Willow looked confused. "He was evil, Buffy. He was a killer."  
  
"It's not our place to decide who gets to live and who gets to   
die!"  
  
"He deserved it..."  
  
"You had no right."  
  
"Fine... you won't judge him, but you'll judge me."  
  
"Willow, I want to help you..."  
  
"Help yourself -- if you can!"   
  
She raised her hands and disappeared.  
  
Buffy was left alone, with a black van parked up on the   
sidewalk and the blackened outline of a man smoking on the   
grass next to her feet.  
  
She heard sirens.  
  
------------------------  
  
Spike turned to face the new threat, a demon with the body of a   
man and the head of a lion. Body of a man -- correct that -- the   
body of Arnold Schwarzenegger.  
  
"So, mate, you a talky demon, or just a fighty demon?"  
  
The world froze, except for Spike. He turned and found himself   
facing Doc again.  
  
"Are you running this show?"  
  
"No. I'm just an advocate. We're taking a little break here so I   
can tell you your options."  
  
"You're not in charge then..."  
  
"Of course not. Would I be handing out souls?"  
  
"Do I get to talk to the bloke in charge?"  
  
"Not yet. You have a way to go before you get there."  
  
"So you're going to tell me to turn back again. Sorry. Not   
interested."  
  
"I'm going to tell you that if you walk away now, you'll won't   
have to fight this demon. It's quite unlikely that you'll win.   
Take a look at him."  
  
"I've fought worse."  
  
"That's questionable."  
  
"Look. I'm willing to fight the Hulk, but could we leave the   
girls out of it? They have nothing to do with my quest. The   
little girl is hurt and needs to get to help. She may not make it   
if she has to wait for me to finish this."  
  
Doc laughed.   
  
"I said you could walk away. I didn't say they could."  
  
"They don't have anything to do with this."  
  
"Maybe not. But he's hungry," Doc said, gesturing toward the   
lion-headed demon.  
  
"Are they real? Or were they just put here to give me   
something to protect?"  
  
"They're real. When it comes down to it, they're just two girls   
from Van Nuys who had the very bad luck to go camping when   
a vampire decided to quest for a soul."  
  
"They were pulled in to this because of me?"  
  
Doc nodded. "But what do you care? They're strangers.   
Nobody you've ever met before, and nobody you ever would   
have met -- if you hadn't come here. They've nothing to do with   
the people you care about."  
  
"And what happens to them if I fail?"  
  
"They'll die."  
  
"Then I'd better not fail."  
  
"It's your funeral," Doc said. "You fight him and lose, he's   
going to eat them. You walk away, he'll still eat them, but at   
least you'll still be alive."  
  
"And if I win?"  
  
"They'll have the same chance of survival they've got now."  
  
"No guarantees?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"OK. Let's get on with it then." 


	19. The Five Elements

Countdown: The Five Elements  
By ElsaF  
  
Spoilers: We're in the 24-verse again. This AU diverges from   
ME's vision after Dead Things.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Buffy and Spike didn't   
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's unwillingness   
to acknowledge Spike publicly meant they broke up soon   
afterward. Spike decided to change himself into someone she   
would be willing to be seen with. Meanwhile, the Scoobies   
raided the Nerds, and Jonathan and Andrew are in custody.   
Warren escaped and came back to shoot Buffy and Xander.   
Xander would have died, but Willow intervened with Osiris to   
prevent him from crossing over. The price for saving Xander's   
life was Willow's soul. Spike has learned that his challenge to   
earn a soul is to protect a pair of women he no connection to.   
Soulless Willow is out of control. She set out to rescue Dawn   
from Warren, but didn't stop when she was safe. She killed   
Warren horribly.  
  
Disclaimer: The philosophy Tara expounds in this chapter   
doesn't really match any known, established system. Frankly, I   
made it up. It should not be taken to reflect my understanding   
or attitudes toward Wicca or any other religious or   
philosophical system. I'm just telling a story here.  
  
  
  
  
Buffy knocked on Tara's door. She could have called, but she   
didn't want to have to talk about this over the telephone.  
  
"I need to talk to you," she said in her most businesslike tone   
when Willow's lover opened the door.  
  
"I know," Tara said almost too quietly to be heard.  
  
"It's about Willow..."  
  
"I know."  
  
Buffy stopped and looked at the other woman. Tara's eyes were   
red and glistening. She'd been crying.  
  
"You've seen her?"  
  
"Not in person. But I felt..."  
  
"Tara, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Come in," Tara said, stepping back and opening the door.  
  
The student apartment Tara shared with another girl was   
furnished like a hundred others with garage-sale furniture. A   
sagging brown sofa that had seen better days, a coffee table   
made of milk crates with a piece of plywood laid over the top,   
a thread-bare rug and bookshelves build out of stacked bricks   
and 1x12's. Everything was worn, mended, repainted or dyed.   
But the apartment was tidy, and it smelled of fresh flowers.  
  
"Can I get you something to drink?" Tara asked. "We've got   
Diet Coke and Sprite in the fridge."  
  
"No thanks. I'm fine."  
  
Tara motioned Buffy to the sofa and sat down beside her.  
  
"I felt it when she used the magic -- at the hospital," Tara said   
quietly. "And then late that night, I felt it again when she ...   
We're connected -- at least we were. When she gave up her   
soul, that stretched the connection to the breaking point. In   
fact, I think she deliberately broke the connection, so I   
wouldn't be affected."  
  
"I'm sorry," Buffy said, feeling helpless. "I should have known   
that you would know."  
  
"I understand what happened," Tara said, her eyes cast down.   
"That's Willow. If she believes it's right, she'll give everything,   
risk everything..."  
  
"She's out of control now," Buffy said as gently as she could.   
"She killed someone."  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
"I was hoping you might be able to tell me how we can help   
her."  
  
Tara shook her head.  
  
"There has to be a way. Willow gave Angel back his soul..."  
  
"That was before I was around," Tara said, her voice little more   
than a whisper, "but she told me about it. The first thing you   
have to understand is that she didn't 'give' him anything. She   
forced his soul back into him. It was anything but a gift. He   
didn't want it, and it only worked because she was stronger   
than he was."  
  
Buffy looked up in surprise.   
  
"Angel wants his soul," she said. "It was Angelus..."  
  
"Angel and Angelus are the same person, Buffy."  
  
"No, Giles said..."  
  
"Magic isn't another kind of science, and there aren't any hard   
and fast 'this is true and that is false' rules. I know the Watchers   
have a lot of beliefs that they treat as certainties. But a lot of it   
is just stuff they've handed down and they accept it because   
someone said so.  
  
"They tend to equate identity with the soul -- but it isn't quite   
that simple. For different people, identity is seated in different   
aspects of their self. Some people hold their identity in their   
intellect; others hold it primarily in their hearts -- their   
emotional life; others still have their identity through their   
spirit. The soul is an ephemeral thing. It is a guide. It doesn't   
force you to be one thing or another. But its influence changes   
how you perceive things.  
  
"Angel is like you, and like Willow. The three of you live   
mostly in your intellect. Who you are is what you think.   
Someone like Spike lives in his heart. What he feels is what he   
is. I live in my spirit. That's not exactly the same thing as the   
soul, but it's very closely related. If I lost my soul, I would   
likely become a different person, because the soul influences   
the spirit so strongly.   
  
"Angel didn't really become a different person, though. He   
lives in his head -- and his body. He behaved differently,   
because he perceived things differently without a soul, but he   
was still the same person. He was still acting on his intellect,   
even though he was drawing different conclusions."  
  
"And Willow?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Her identity is her intellect -- to a greater extent than either   
you or Angel. You see, it isn't like a box you drop your identity   
into. Most people have a bit of their identity in their heart, a bit   
in their head, a bit in their spirit, some more in their body and   
their energy, and it's the distribution that makes each person a   
little different. But some people are really dominant in one   
element. Willow is one of those people. She's nearly all   
intellect."  
  
"Then she's still Willow..."  
  
Tara nodded. "And that is what makes this so difficult for me. I   
love her Buffy. I love Willow -- soul or not. She's still the   
person I love. But I know that without her soul to guide her,   
she's dangerous -- terribly dangerous. Her soul advises her to   
keep her power in check. Without it she'll use her power   
without any restrictions. And she'll have to be stopped."  
  
"But Angel got his soul back -- given or forced. So surely we   
can do the same for Willow."  
  
"Willow was stronger than Angel -- four years ago. She's   
become stronger since then. None of us have the power to force   
anything on her. And if we did -- to use that much power on a   
person can only be harmful. It would probably destroy her."  
  
"There has to be another way," Buffy said firmly. "I refuse to   
believe it's hopeless."  
  
Tara smiled sadly. "The only way it could possibly work is if   
she agreed to be resouled. And even then, we'd need the help of   
an incredibly powerful witch or warlock. I couldn't do it -- as   
much as I love Willow, I know the limits of my power, and this   
is beyond me."  
  
"Do you know anyone?"  
  
Tara shook her head.  
  
"Maybe Giles would know someone."  
  
"It wouldn't hurt to call him."  
  
Buffy nodded, her mind racing ahead.  
  
"You said Spike lives in his heart?" she said quietly.  
  
"Surely you knew that. Maybe you didn't recognize it   
consciously. But I can't believe you didn't feel it. In his aura,   
his heart burns brighter than any I've ever seen."  
  
"Maybe I did," Buffy said. "But I wouldn't let myself believe   
it."  
  
"He's very intelligent. As intelligent as Willow, easily. But it   
isn't his intellect that controls him. When he feels something,   
everything he's reasoned out goes right out the window," Tara   
said with a little smile. "People who live in their hearts are like   
that."  
  
"So, who a person is is made up of their heart, their intellect   
and their spirit?" Buffy asked.  
  
"There are five elements. Different philosophies call them   
different things. The Chinese call the elements wood, metal,   
water, earth and fire. I call them spirit, heart, head, body and   
energy.   
  
"People who live in the spirit are most strongly influenced by   
their souls. People who live in their bodies are the least   
influenced. The heart, intellect and energy people fall between.  
  
"Your primary element is intellect, but your body is also strong   
and you have more energy than most people. Your heart and   
spirit are in there, but they get overruled more often than not."  
  
Buffy frowned slightly.   
  
"Energy? Like the Energizer Bunny?"  
  
"No, energy is the force of your personality. Some people just   
hit you like a punch in the face, other people just brush up   
against you. Energy is the difference. I'm very low in energy   
and body, strong in spirit and heart. Sort of in the middle in   
intellect."  
  
"When I went on the vision quest, the First Slayer told me I   
was full of love."  
  
Tara smiled. "You are. And if your heart aspect was stronger,   
you would find it easier to express that love. As it is, you hold   
it bottled up inside you."  
  
Buffy shook her head slightly. "OK, this isn't about me. We   
have to find a way to stop Willow -- and help her -- before it's   
too late." Buffy frowned slightly. "If it's not already too late."  
  
"If she's killed, she's been changed," Tara said sadly. "There is   
no way around that. Killing damages the spirit."  
  
"Do you think you could influence her -- now, the way she is?"   
Buffy asked. "I know Willow loves you. And if love isn't   
dependent on the soul, then surely she still loves you. Maybe   
you could convince her to accept resouling."  
  
"I'll try -- I can't guarantee anything. Willow has always been   
stronger than me. I know she cares about me, but I don't know   
whether she'll listen to me now."  
  
"We have to try."  
  
------------------  
  
Karen watched the battle with a sense of detachment. What her   
eyes saw, she found difficult to process. This couldn't really be   
happening, could it?  
  
Spike fought the lion-headed demon tenaciously. He was faster   
than the larger creature, but the demon was stronger, and each   
time he connected with a blow to Spike's body, she could see   
he was being hurt. She hurt bones snap. The creature clawed at   
him and opened deep gashes in his chest and down his arms.   
Again and again he was thrown down, but each time, he got   
back up and launched himself at the demon again.  
  
Karen was afraid. She was afraid for her sister who lay   
unmoving wrapped in Spike's leather coat beside her. She was   
afraid for Spike, who seemed to be gradually losing ground in   
the struggle. And she was afraid for herself. If he was defeated,   
how could she defend her sister as he'd told her to do? He'd   
told her to stand her ground, and she was determined to do so.   
But what could she do against this massive, deadly creature?  
  
Spike dodged a swipe of the lion-creature's claws. He ducked   
under the sweeping arm and came up behind the demon,   
leaping up to kick it in the back at waist level. The demon   
roared in pain and swung around to hit Spike in the face and   
send him sprawling back.  
  
He was fighting without any sort of weapon, which left him at   
a distinct disadvantage against this creature of claws and teeth.  
  
Suddenly, Karen remembered her utility knife. It was in its   
scabbard on the back of her belt. She'd completely forgotten   
she had it. It wasn't much, just a five-inch blade on a plastic   
handle -- a pretty standard piece of camping equipment that   
she'd never considered a weapon. But it was sharp. If she could   
just get it to him.  
  
Spike was sprawled on the ground, stunned by the creature's   
blow to his head. He was trying to get up, but moving too   
slowly. The creature was closing on him. Karen felt her heart   
leap into her throat. It was going to finish him off.  
  
Karen shouted in a desperate attempt to distract the creature. It   
stopped and turned to look at her. Its eyes glowed red for a   
moment when it saw her -- apparently for the first time. With a   
snarl, it launched toward her.  
  
"No!" Spike roared. "You're fighting me!"  
  
The creature was not swayed by that argument. It charged   
toward Karen and as it reached her, she did the only thing she   
could think of and plunged the knife up into the creature's   
chest. It roared in pain and hit her with a blow that knocked her   
back, sending her skidding across the rough ground. She felt   
the skin scraping off the backs of her legs. Her head hurt and   
she was momentarily disoriented.  
  
The knife stuck in the demon's chest, but it didn't seem to cause   
it much distress. It started toward her again, and she thought   
that this was surely the last thing she was going to see.  
  
But the moment's distraction gave Spike time gain his feet   
again and he tackled the demon from the side, knocking it off   
its feet. He had hold of the knife then, and jerked it down the   
length of the demon's trunk, opening a long, bloody incision.  
  
The demon's arms and legs twitched and jerked, then it went   
limp.  
  
Spike was at Karen's side then, helping her to sit up.  
  
"You shouldn't have done that, love. Not that I don't appreciate   
it, but that was my fight, and you may have broken a rule   
there," he said gently. "But you've got guts, and I can't fault   
you for trying."  
  
"You said I had to stand my ground and protect my sister,"   
Karen said, trying to shake off the effect of the blow to her   
head.   
  
"Actually, that was quite within the parameters of the   
challenge," said an other-worldly voice from behind Spike.  
  
He turned to see who had spoken.  
  
What Karen could only describe as an angel stood where the   
demon's body had lain. He was at least seven feet tall, mostly   
human in appearance, with the addition of white-feathered   
wings. He was naked and quite well endowed, Karen observed   
before she averted her eyes in embarrassment. And his entire   
figure glowed with a soft white light.  
  
"She was allowed to help me?" Spike asked, sounding   
surprised.  
  
"Oh, yes. What you inspire others to do is as much a part of   
your worthiness as the things you do," the angel said.  
  
"Then you're the bloke in charge?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And I passed?"  
  
"You have passed this phase. You have one more challenge   
remaining."  
  
"That would be me," Doc said, stepping into the light shed by   
the angel. 


	20. The Four Horsemen

Countdown: The Four Horsemen  
By ElsaF  
  
Spoilers: We're still in the 24-verse, which split off from ME's   
vision after Dead Things.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Buffy and Spike didn't   
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's unwillingness   
to acknowledge Spike publicly meant they broke up soon   
afterward. Spike decided to change himself into someone she   
would be willing to be seen with. Meanwhile, the Scoobies   
raided the Nerds, and Jonathan and Andrew are in custody.   
Warren escaped and came back to shoot Buffy and Xander.   
Xander would have died, but Willow intervened with Osiris to   
prevent him from crossing over. The price for saving Xander's   
life was Willow's soul. Soulless Willow is now out of control.   
She set out to rescue Dawn from Warren, but didn't stop when   
she was safe and killed Warren horribly. Spike has completed   
most of his challenges to earn a soul. He now faces the final   
challenge: Doc.   
  
  
  
"Sleepy, Sneezy, Dopey and Doc."  
  
Dawn laughed. "I am so not believing you."  
  
"Let me try again. Um... John, Paul, George and Ringo."  
  
"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are not a British pop   
group, Xander."  
  
Buffy stood in the hall with her tray and listened as Dawn   
bantered with their disabled houseguest. The teenager was   
covering up her distress at what she'd seen just a few hours   
earlier. Buffy could hear an edge in her voice, though. It was to   
be expected. You couldn't expect a 15-year-old to see a   
gruesome murder and not be affected.  
  
"OK, you tell me then," Xander replied.  
  
"OK, Plague, Famine, War and Income Tax -- I don't know.   
That's why I was asking you."  
  
"I don't think Income Tax was one of them," Buffy said,   
pushing the door open with her hip and setting the tray down   
on the bed stand.  
  
"Pity," Xander replied. "Because if Income Tax was one of the   
Four Horsemen, as Slayer you could do away with them."  
  
"OK, Buffy, who are the Four Horsemen?"  
  
"Dasher, Dancer, Donner and Blitzen," Buffy said, shaking her   
head.  
  
"I feel bad about this," Xander said as Buffy handed him the   
bowl of macaroni and cheese from the tray. "You're recovering   
too, and you have to run up and down stairs taking care of me.   
Where's Willow, anyway?"  
  
Buffy and Dawn exchanged a quick, nervous look.  
  
"Um... school I guess," Buffy said evasively.  
  
"On Sunday?"  
  
"Oh, study date or something," Buffy said.   
  
"Oh..." Xander said, not sounding entirely convinced. "It just   
seems strange that I've barely seen her since I got here. It was   
her idea to bring me here..."  
  
"It's OK. I'm fine. I'm not even wearing a bandage now. But,   
Dawn, I'd appreciate a little help with the laundry..."  
  
"Sure..."  
  
Buffy and Dawn went downstairs, after gathering up clothing   
for the wash. In the basement, they sorted the garments in   
silence.  
  
"Um... when are we going to tell him," Dawn asked after a   
while.  
  
"I don't know. When he's stronger. Or maybe we'll get it   
straightened out before then..."  
  
They went back up to the kitchen.  
  
"Lunch? Kraft Dinner is today's special," Buffy said with   
forced cheerfulness.  
  
"No thanks," Dawn said listlessly.  
  
"You've got to eat, honey."  
  
Dawn just shook her head.  
  
"Look. I know you're still upset about what you saw..."  
  
"It's not what I saw, Buffy. I'm your sister, I've seen blood and   
mayhem and guts before."  
  
"Yes, but ..."  
  
"It's not that. It's ... I think I may have set her off," Dawn said.  
  
"You? That's silly. Why would you think that?"  
  
"She was really trying to be ... normal. But I was all wigged,   
and she could tell it."  
  
"You had good reason to be upset, honey. There's nothing   
normal about this."  
  
"Yeah, but I know that when I first found out I was the key,   
and everybody was acting funny around me -- it was like it was   
making me act weird too. I remember how it felt when   
everybody was all tense around me, Buffy. I should have   
thought of that with Willow."  
  
"Oh, Dawn, no. It wasn't your fault. Willow -- she would have   
gone off no matter what. It was just a matter of what was going   
to trigger it. It was Warren -- not you."  
  
Dawn had started to cry. "Everybody around me ... First it was   
you, now it's Willow. I make people go crazy, don't I?"  
  
"No! Dawn, none of this is your fault. None of it. You can't   
think that way."  
  
Buffy looked up, to see Xander standing in the kitchen   
doorway, looking at her in horror.  
  
"What's wrong with Willow?" he said in a faltering voice.  
  
"Nothing! What are you doing out of bed?" Buffy replied.  
  
"What's wrong with Willow?" Xander repeated.  
  
Buffy didn't answer.  
  
"She's gone off the wagon, hasn't she?"  
  
Buffy just nodded.  
  
"Oh, God. I thought I dreamed it. When I was on the table. I   
thought it was just a dream. But she did something, didn't she?"  
  
Buffy nodded again.  
  
"And now she's on some kind of tear..."  
  
"We're going to deal with it. Please try not to worry," Buffy   
said firmly.  
  
"There's something else. You're not telling me everything."  
  
"I don't want you to worry. I want you to go back upstairs to   
bed and get better."  
  
"I'm not moving until you tell me everything," Xander said   
with a frown.  
  
------------------  
  
The angel, if that's what it was, was gone. Spike faced Doc in   
the pale light of a half moon.  
  
"So, this is it. This time I make it stick," Spike said, grinding   
his teeth. He was battered. He was exhausted. And he knew   
Doc wasn't as easily overcome as he looked.  
  
"Have you wondered why I keep popping up?"  
  
"I've got a theory."  
  
"Let's hear it."  
  
"Don't feel much like talking. Feel more like tearing your head   
off."  
  
"Won't help, you know."  
  
"I've heard your spiel already, mate. Soul won't solve my   
problems. Won't make me happy. Won't make a difference."  
  
"Never said it wouldn't make a difference."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Spike regarded the little demon. He was anything but   
threatening -- a small man in a business suit, close-cropped   
gray hair, a pleasant, impish face. But Spike couldn't look at   
him without feeling a knife between his ribs. He felt himself   
falling again -- plunging to the ground. He'd failed. Doc had   
cut Dawn. And Buffy had died to save the world.   
  
"I failed," Spike said quietly.  
  
"And you always will. You're an amazing piece of work.   
You're strong, smart, fast and wily. But in the end, you'll   
always fail. You were never destined to be a hero, Spike. You   
don't have it in you."  
  
"Like I'm going to take that from you," Spike said with a   
frown.   
  
"You don't have to. You already know it. That's why you're   
here. The Slayer told you you were a dead, soulless thing, and   
you knew it was true. You knew you weren't good enough."  
  
"Things are gonna change."  
  
"No they aren't. They never do. When have you ever been   
successful at anything?"  
  
Spike was silent.  
  
------------------  
  
Xander sat at the kitchen table, his face buried in his hands.  
  
"She did it for me," he said quietly. "Oh, God. I am so not   
worth it."  
  
"Hey, if I'm not allowed to think it's my fault, then you aren't   
either," Dawn said, putting a hand on his arm.   
  
"What are we going to do?" Xander asked, looking up at Buffy.  
  
"Well, right now, I'm going to call Giles. Then you're going   
back to bed."  
  
"Not feeling much like sleeping," Xander said.  
  
"Tough," Buffy said with a frown.  
  
-----------------  
  
"Time's running out. If you don't defeat me soon, the sun will   
come up, and it will be all over for you," Doc taunted.  
  
Spike took a step toward the demon, but stopped.  
  
"That's it, isn't it? This isn't about me killing you. I probably   
can't. Anything I do, you'll just change into something else, and   
you won't be dead.   
  
"It's about answering your question."  
  
"A Cupie doll for the vampire," Doc said with an unpleasant   
grin.  
  
"When have I ever been successful at anything?"  
  
Doc nodded. "Clock's ticking vampire. Think hard."  
  
"You're my self-doubt. You're probably not Doc at all. Just an   
apparition."  
  
"Doesn't matter. You still have to answer the question."  
  
"When have I ever been successful anything?"  
  
"That's the question."  
  
"So all I have to do is tell you when I was completely   
successful at something, and I win. I get what I came for."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"When have I ever been successful at anything?"  
  
"Answer and win. Otherwise, you lose."  
  
"Now."  
  
Doc disappeared in a flash of light.  
  
-------------------  
  
"Why were you asking me about the Four Horsemen?" Xander   
asked.  
  
"Oh, nothing. Something for school," Dawn replied.  
  
"Somehow I doubt that."  
  
"It just sort of popped into my head," Dawn admitted. "I guess   
I was thinking about Willow and what's going to happen."  
  
"Apocalypse?"  
  
"Well, it does seem to be our specialty."  
  
Buffy was dialing Giles number.  
  
"War, Conquest, Famine and Death," Xander said.  
  
"Really? That's sort of lame, isn't it? I mean, aren't war and   
conquest pretty much the same?"  
  
"Yeah... I guess those biblical guys didn't know apocalypse like   
we know apocalypse," Xander said with a wan smile.  
  
"I think it should be War, Hatred, Intolerance and Self-Doubt,"   
Dawn replied.  
  
Xander gave her a surprised look. "Whoa! Weighty thoughts   
there, kidlet."  
  
Buffy heard the phone pick up on the other side of the world.  
  
"Giles? Yes, it's me.... no, I don't know what time it is there..." 


	21. Triangle

Countdown: Triangle  
By ElsaF  
  
Spoilers: We're in the 24-verse from here on out. This AU split   
off after Dead Things.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Buffy and Spike didn't   
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's unwillingness   
to acknowledge Spike publicly meant they broke up soon   
afterward. Spike decided to change himself into someone she   
would be willing to be seen with. Meanwhile, the Scoobies   
raided the Nerds, and Warren escaped and came back to shoot   
Buffy and Xander. Xander would have died, but Willow   
intervened with Osiris to prevent him from crossing over. The   
price for saving Xander's life was Willow's soul. Soulless   
Willow killed Warren horribly. Spike, meanwhile, won his soul   
by protecting strangers, inspiring someone else to courage and   
overcoming his self-doubt.   
  
  
  
Tara was washing the dinner dishes when the knock came on   
the door. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and went to   
answer the door.  
  
"Willow!" she said in surprise.  
  
Willow stood at the top of the stairs looking as dejected as Tara   
had ever seen her friend and lover.  
  
"Can I come in?" she said in a tiny voice.  
  
"Yes! Of course. Please."  
  
"You're not afraid of me?"  
  
Tara shook her head.   
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Can I get you some herb tea? You look like you could use   
some chamomile."  
  
"You know what happened, don't you?"  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
"I've done something horrible," Willow said, wiping a tear   
away.   
  
Tara sat down beside her. "But you know it was wrong, and   
that's good. Things are different now. You're going to have to   
learn how to control yourself all over again."  
  
"What can I do now? I've killed someone. You don't just   
apologize and go on. I didn't mean to..."  
  
"I know. It's going to be hard for you, honey. But there's   
nothing you can't come back from. Nothing. Remember that.   
The Goddess always forgives."  
  
"The Goddess... What about you, Tara?"  
  
"I don't know... in time. Who am I kidding? I don't care what   
you've done. I'll always love you."  
  
"Then everything will be OK?" Willow asked, her eyes shining   
with tears. "It's not like I'll go to prison or anything. I've been   
watching the news and they haven't even reported Warren's   
death. I don't think the police believe anything happened."  
  
"No, the police aren't looking for you. Buffy said they didn't   
believe her when she told them what happened. Warren didn't   
have any family here. The police think he left town to escape   
the robbery charges."  
  
Willow nodded. "Then it will be all right."  
  
Tara gave her a long look. "Not getting caught doesn't make it   
all right," she said carefully.  
  
"I know. I know it was wrong. But I can do so much more to   
make amends if I'm not running from the police, right?"  
  
Tara pulled away slightly. "What are you going to do to make   
amends?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know. Tell me what to do. Anything. I'll do anything   
you say."  
  
"It's not up to me."  
  
"But I'm lost, Tara. You have to help me."  
  
Tara frowned and stood up, stepping away from Willow.  
  
"You're not worried about how wrong what you did was.   
You're worried that *I* think it was wrong."  
  
Willow looked up at her uncomprehending.  
  
"This doesn't have anything to do with your soul, Willow.   
You've always been this way."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You can't stand to have anybody think you're less than perfect.   
That's why you did what you did to me. You couldn't stand to   
have me upset with you."  
  
"Tara, sweetie," Willow said, desperation creeping into her   
voice. "I know what I did to you was wrong. I gave up   
magic..."  
  
"And you started using it again."  
  
"I didn't have any choice. I would have died when Osiris took   
my soul! Isn't it better that I'm still alive and able to do good   
things?"  
  
"And bad things."  
  
"It was a mistake. Just a mistake. I've learned something. I   
have to think about what I'm doing. Knowing right from wrong   
isn't automatic anymore. I'm going to get a handle on this. I   
won't ever do anything like that again!"  
  
"You knew right from wrong when you used the memory spell   
on me."  
  
"That's all in the past! I thought we'd got past that."  
  
"I forgave you, Willow. But then, almost right away, you went   
back to using magic."  
  
"I told you. I had to. Would you rather I was dead?"  
  
"No! That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about   
calling on Osiris to save Xander!"  
  
"But I saved his life! Surely that was a good thing." Willow's   
voice rose defensively.  
  
"Oh, Willow, can't you see it?" A tear spilled down Tara's   
cheek.  
  
"You're jealous. You're jealous because Xander's life was   
important enough to me that I broke my promise to you not to   
use magic," Willow said with a frown.  
  
"But you have to understand. I love Xander, but it doesn't have   
anything to do with you and me. We grew up together. He's   
like my brother."  
  
Tara shook her head. The stutter that had robbed her of the   
ability to express herself so long was back. She knew that if   
she tried to speak now, she would have to force the words   
through unwilling lips.  
  
"It's not j-j-jealousy!" said forced herself to say. "Oh, Willow,   
c-c-c-can't you understand? I love you. And the fact that you   
w-w-would sacrifice yourself for a f-f-friend -- it's why I   
l-l-love you so much."  
  
"You're upset. You only stutter when you're upset or afraid,"   
Willow said. "You're afraid of me."  
  
Tara shook her head violently. "Upset n-n-not-t afraid."  
  
Tara sat back down and took Willow's hand. "I know y-y-you   
mean w-well."  
  
Willow reached over with her free hand and touched Tara's   
lips. "Let the words flow free," she said softly.  
  
Tara's eyes opened wide in surprise. "What did you do?" she   
asked in alarm.  
  
"I fixed your stutter," Willow said with a bright smile.  
  
"You can't do that!" Tara said vehemently. She stood up again   
and moved away.  
  
"What do you mean? It was only making it harder for you to   
talk. I just wanted to make it easier for you!"  
  
"You didn't ask me whether I wanted it to be easier! You just   
changed me without even warning me!"  
  
"I can put it back if you don't like it," Willow said with a   
frown.  
  
"No! Don't *ever* change me. Never. Not my memories, not   
my voice or my speech. Not my hairstyle. You don't have my   
permission to remake me for your pleasure!"  
  
"It wasn't for me..."  
  
"Yes, it was. My stutter was making you uncomfortable. So   
you took it away."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"It's always going to be this way," Tara said sadly. "A triangle   
-- you, me and your power."  
  
"Please, Tara. Give me another chance. Everything feels   
different now. I need time to get the feel of things."   
  
"Willow, this isn't because you gave up your soul. It's because   
you started using your power again. Once you do that, you lose   
your perspective. It's something that hasn't changed about you.   
It's just stronger now."  
  
"I'll get control of myself. I promise. I'll never change anything   
about you Tara ever again! I love you. Can't you believe that?"  
  
"I believe it. I've always believed it. But I don't believe you can   
control your power. Not without your soul to help you."  
  
"I can do it with you to help me," Willow said. "You tell me   
what's right. I'll do whatever you say."  
  
"Then go now." Tara said, closing her eyes. "Go and find Buffy   
and tell her you're willing to do whatever she says."  
  
"Buffy? What does she have to do with it?"  
  
"You have to submit, Willow. You have to accept that there is   
power greater than your own."  
  
"I said I'd do whatever you say, not Buffy," Willow said with a   
frown.  
  
"Oh Willow, don't you see? You'll submit to me because you   
know you can always control me!"  
  
"No! How can you say that? You know I love you!"  
  
"It isn't about love. It's about power. You crave it. You can't   
give it up."  
  
"Tara," Willow said softly. "Trust me. I'll never harm you.   
That's absolute. Never!" She got up and approached her lover.  
  
"I wish I could," Tara sobbed.  
  
"You can," Willow said, reaching out to embrace the other   
woman.  
  
Tara tried to raise her hand to push Willow away, but found   
she couldn't move it.  
  
"Willow! What are you doing? Stop it! Now!"  
  
"Shhhh!" Willow said.  
  
"No, please. Don't do this," Tara whispered.  
  
"How can you think I'd hurt you?"  
  
Tara closed her eyes and concentrated. Her own magic was   
weak compared to Willow's, but Willow wasn't putting her full   
strength behind the binding spell. She concentrated on the word   
that would send her own power out to cast off Willow's spell.   
The spell snapped like a rubber band stretched beyond its limit.  
  
Tara brought both hands up and shoved Willow away with all   
her physical strength.  
  
"Get out," Tara said angrily.  
  
"Tara..."  
  
"Ask me again whether I trust you!" Tara spat.  
  
"God... no... I didn't mean..."  
  
"Get out!"  
  
------------------  
  
The apartment door was standing open. Buffy found Tara   
sitting on her sofa weeping.  
  
"What happened?" Buffy asked. "Are you OK?"  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
"Willow was here, wasn't she?"  
  
Tara nodded again.  
  
Buffy stood looking at her friend, at a loss for what to say.  
  
"I'm sorry. I take it she wasn't willing to be resouled?"  
  
"We never got around to talking about that," Tara said. "Oh,   
Buffy, I think I've made it worse. We were talking and she was   
being reasonable -- like Willow. Then it just went to pieces."  
  
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.  
  
"I'm sure you didn't make it worse," Buffy said gently. "Dawn   
thought the same thing, you know. But all this is coming from   
Willow -- not you, not Dawn. It's not Xander's fault for needing   
her help to survive. It's not my fault for asking her to check on   
Xander at the hospital.  
  
"She's making her own choices. In the end, she's going to have   
to answer for them."  
  
Tara looked up at Buffy, her soft, gray eyes filled with sorrow.   
"We're going to have to destroy her, aren't we?" she whispered.  
  
Buffy looked away. "I hope not. God how I hope not. There's   
still a chance she'll see reason. Willow's a very smart person,   
like you said. She thinks things through. Surely she's got to see   
she can't go on this way."  
  
"I don't want her hurt. But if there's anything I can do to   
help..."  
  
"That's why I came. Giles is here. He's researching it as we   
speak. He's going to find a way."  
  
"Giles? So quick? How did he get here so fast?"  
  
"I called him last night. Woke him up at 3 a.m. his time," Buffy   
said with a little smile. "He understood the urgency of the   
situation, to put it in his words. He said he's been working with   
a coven in Devon, and they've felt something rising here. They   
consider a witch as powerful as Willow without a soul to be as   
serious a threat as they can imagine. So they did a teleportation   
spell and sent him here to help us. Pretty cool, eh? Halfway   
around the world and no jet lag."  
  
----------------  
  
The angel was back. Spike knelt in front of him and waited.   
The myriad wounds on his face, chest, arms and back ached   
and stung. He was tired to the bone. But the challenge was   
finished. He had succeeded. It was time to accept his reward.  
  
"You ask for a soul," the angel said.  
  
"Yeah. Let's get on with it. Don't have all night. Got to get   
these ladies back to civilization where they can get some help."  
  
The angel cocked his head to the side, looking amused.  
  
"You don't have time for that. The sun will be up in less than   
an hour."  
  
Spike frowned and looked up. "What? Then what's the bloody   
point? I went through all that to protect them, and the little girl   
dies because it took to long? That's not right!"  
  
"If you hadn't protected them they would have died. The older   
one may still be able to get her sister to safety."  
  
"Not likely, mate. They need my help!"  
  
"They are not your concern. The challenge is over. You have   
succeeded."  
  
"I haven't succeeded if they die."  
  
"Then, I suspect you will still find a way to help them. You're   
an odd vampire, William. But it's been an pleasure to know   
you."  
  
The angel reached down and touched Spike's chest.  
  
He screamed as a fire hotter than the sun itself burned through   
his flesh and the world disappeared around him. 


	22. Second Chances

Countdown: Second Chances  
By ElsaF  
  
Summary: Still in the 24-verse, which split off from ME's   
vision after Dead Things.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Buffy and Spike didn't   
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's unwillingness   
to acknowledge Spike publicly meant they broke up soon   
afterward. Spike decided to change himself into someone she   
would be willing to be seen with. Meanwhile, the Scoobies   
raided the Nerds, and Warren escaped and came back to shoot   
Buffy and Xander. Xander would have died, but Willow   
intervened with Osiris to prevent him from crossing over. The   
price for saving Xander's life was Willow's soul. Soulless   
Willow killed Warren horribly. Spike, meanwhile, won his soul   
by protecting strangers, inspiring someone else to courage and   
overcoming his self-doubt. Willow went to visit Tara and it   
went badly.  
  
Disclaimer: Giles' chant is adapted from "Myths of Enki, The   
Crafty God" by Samuel Noah Kramer.  
  
  
  
The mood at the Magic Box was several shades darker than   
glum. Dawn had left the group of adults and was reading an   
Ann Rice novel off in the corner. Xander sat at the research   
table, looking pale and weary. Buffy had tried to convince him   
to stay home, but he'd insisted on being included. Giles looked   
serious and worried, not to mention slightly disoriented, having   
crossed eight time zones in a matter of seconds earlier that day.   
Anya was being the counter, paying attention to the   
conversation, but pretending to work on the day's accounts.   
She'd left the table when Xander came in. Tara was the most   
miserable of all, her eyes red from crying, though she was   
making an effort to keep her emotions in check now.  
  
Buffy surveyed her troops with a heavy heart. They were here   
to discuss strategy -- strategy that nobody wanted to consider.  
  
"All right, what are our options?" Buffy asked, turning to   
Giles.  
  
"Fairly limited," the former Watcher said carefully. "The coven   
have given me a bit of power that I can use in a binding spell,   
but after she's bound, we'll still have to take extra measures. A   
binding spell won't last indefinitely, and when she frees herself,   
she is likely to be more dangerous than before."  
  
"And what would those extra measures be?" Buffy asked.  
  
"We will need to separate her from her magic," Giles said,   
looking at the table to avoid Buffy's eyes.  
  
"According to Anya, she'll die without her magic now," Buffy   
replied.  
  
"I'm afraid that may be true."  
  
"I won't accept that as the only answer," Buffy said stubbornly.   
"There has to be something else we can do."  
  
Tara looked up, struggling to speak through a new wave of   
grief. "I want another way more than anyone, Buffy," she said.   
"Really I do. But I don't know what it could be."  
  
"We have to give her back her soul. Don't tell me it can't be   
done," Buffy said with a frown. "I know it can. It might not be   
easy, but ..."  
  
"It's more than not easy," Giles said. "It's dangerous. It's very   
likely what set Willow on the disastrous path she's been on   
these four years. If we try to duplicate that spell, we could   
possibly be sending someone else down that path."  
  
"What? You're saying Willow lost her soul because she gave   
Angel back his?" Buffy asked.  
  
"No, not directly," Giles replied. "I blame myself, really. When   
I saw the kinds of power she was capable of, I should have   
found her a mentor. She should have had training, rather than   
groping about teaching herself.  
  
"She was only beginning to understand magic when she   
attempted the restoration spell. That spell requires the   
practitioner to channel massive amounts of mystical energy.   
With her lack of training, I have no doubt now that it corrupted   
her essence. Humans really shouldn't attempt restoration. In the   
very few cases where it has been done legitimately, it was   
handled by very, very powerful demons. Demons of an order   
that is very seldom encountered on this plane of existence."  
  
"What about the gypsy witch who originally did the curse on   
Angel?" Xander asked.  
  
"We don't know what happened to her," Giles said.  
  
"Yeah, we do," Buffy said with a frown. "Drusilla killed her --   
not long after she did the spell."  
  
"Spike told you that?" Xander asked.  
  
"No, Angel did." She crossed her arms and looked determined.  
  
"So, clearly, we need to contact one of these special demons,"   
she said confidently.   
  
"It's not that simple," Giles said patiently. "Willow gave up her   
soul in a valid contract. It won't be returned without a suitable   
payment."  
  
"Somebody has to die?" Xander asked.  
  
"Not necessarily. I can't say what sort of price would be asked.   
But I can say with absolute certainty that Willow's soul won't   
be returned simply because we ask for it."  
  
"What does Osiris want with souls anyway?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Hard to say. The nature of existence on other planes is   
difficult for us to understand, having experience only in our   
own. But many beings from other planes seek human souls.   
Why? All I can say is that they must have value."  
  
"Then what we have to work on now is contacting the demons   
who can do restoration," Buffy said.  
  
Giles frowned. "We also have to prepare ourselves for the less   
desirable solution."  
  
"No," Buffy said flatly.   
  
"I'm afraid I have to differ," Giles said firmly. "We have to   
approach this from a practical point of view. Believe me, it   
pains me to think of harming a young woman I have known   
and cared about for six years. But I don't think you understand   
just how dangerous her power is in the hands of someone with   
no conscience."  
  
"Conscience? You want to talk about conscience?" Buffy said,   
anger creeping into her voice. "You said 'harm,' but it wasn't   
what you meant. You meant 'kill.' If you're going to talk about   
it, at least use the right word. Don't pretend it's some justified,   
righteous cause. You're talking about killing my best friend.   
And I'm not going to stand by and let it happen!"  
  
"Buffy..." Giles said.  
  
"No, don't even try to talk me into it," Buffy spat. "We've been   
all through this before. I don't kill people. Especially the people   
I care about. I don't stand by and let other people kill people.   
And I'm not going to start now."  
  
"Buffy," Tara said in a voice so soft that it commanded   
attention. "Giles may be right."  
  
"Tara! How can you of all people..."  
  
"I know Willow," Tara said, her eyes shining with tears. "And I   
know how much pain she must be in right now. How it eats   
into her when she makes a mistake. I know how badly she   
wants to be good. And I know that she'll never be able to do it   
now. It's only going to get worse for her. I can't bear to think of   
her in so much pain."  
  
"People make mistakes," Buffy said, reining in her anger and   
finding a softer tone of voice. "Everybody does. And we go on   
afterward. That's what life is, recovering from your mistakes   
and working out how to do better next time."  
  
Tara nodded, but looked away.  
  
"I don't like having to argue for this," Giles said. "Especially   
since I blame myself for what's happened. But there is more at   
stake than one young woman's life."  
  
"Guys..."  
  
Everyone looked up. Dawn had put aside her book and was   
standing by the table.  
  
"Dawn, you don't need to concern yourself about this," Buffy   
said.   
  
"Yeah, I do. Willow is my friend, too. And even if I wasn't   
around to overhear it, it's not like I don't know that the last time   
you were talking about killing someone to protect the world, it   
was me."  
  
"I wasn't willing to consider it then, either," Buffy said firmly.  
  
Giles looked sick. "Dawn, I don't know how you heard about   
this, but I want you to know..."  
  
"Don't bother," the teenager said tensely. "I just wanted to say   
something now."  
  
"Dawn..." Buffy said.  
  
"No, just listen to me. I just wanted to say that everybody's   
been blaming themselves. Me, Xander, Tara, Buffy -- now   
Giles."  
  
"I don't think I'm to blame," Anya said.  
  
"Well, you're the only one then," Dawn continued, with a slight   
frown. "Buffy, you're worried that she did it because you   
asked her to help Xander. Xander, you think she did it because   
she loves you. Tara, you think you made her worse because   
you had an argument. Giles, you think you're responsible   
because you didn't get her a teacher.  
  
"Everybody's worrying about what they did wrong. You're all   
thinking like, what can I do to make up for what I did? But   
that's not important.   
  
"Why isn't anyone thinking about Willow?"  
  
The five adults stared at her in surprise.  
  
-------------------  
  
They cleared a space on the floor and they sat cross-legged in a   
circle around five candles and a saucer of herbs. Anya chose a   
place as far from Xander as possible. Dawn sat between Tara   
and Giles. Xander between Buffy and Giles.   
  
"What we're doing here is searching for knowledge," Giles   
explained. "We will place the question of how Willow can   
regain her soul into the ether, and ask Enki, god of wisdom to   
enlighten us."  
  
"Sort of search in the cosmic stacks," Xander said.   
  
"Yes, quite," Giles said, giving Xander a mildly disapproving   
look.  
  
"The most important thing to remember is that we must sincere   
in our quest for wisdom. If you have any further wise cracks to   
share, Xander, I suggest you get them out now. When we   
begin, there will be no room for humor, or what passes for it."  
  
"All done," Xander said, raising his hands in surrender.  
  
"Then we will begin. Join hands."   
  
They completed their circle.  
  
"Enki, lord of the hegal the Anunna-gods possess. Nudimmud,   
the mighty one of the Ekur, the strong one of An and Uras.   
Nudimmud, the mighty one of the Ekur, strong one of the   
Anunna, whose noble house set up in the Abzu is the mast of   
heaven and earth," Giles began.  
  
"Enki, who lifting but a single eye, convulses the Kur, where   
the bison is born, the stag is born, where the wild sheep is born,   
the stag is born in the meadows, and the pits in the heart of the   
hursag in the verdant places of heaven -- the place where no   
one dares to enter, there you have fixed your eyes like a halhal-  
reed.  
  
"Hear our plea. We come in supplication. We ask your   
wisdom. We seek to know the ways of the soul..."  
  
There was a sound, a soft buzzing that came from the inner   
circle formed by the candles. There was a crackling in the air   
like static electricity, and a fragrance like the air after a rain   
storm.  
  
"Enki, lord of the hegal, lord of wisdom, beloved of An,   
ornament of Eridu, who directs commands and decisions,   
expert at fate-decreeing: You have made the month to enter its   
house. You bring down the stars of heaven; you have computed   
their number. Hear our plea. Grant us knowledge..."  
  
A light sprung from the center of the inner circle and went up   
to the ceiling were it grew into a misty, glowing cloud.  
  
Then, with a sudden crack the cloud opened, and something the   
size of a man fell from the ceiling, landing on the candles and   
extinguishing them with a startled yelp.  
  
"Bloody hell!"  
  
Spike raised his head and looked around -- obviously confused.  
  
"Giles! You made it rain vampires!" Xander said.  
  
Buffy jumped up and put out the last candle, which had fallen   
over and was starting to burn the pool of wax that had spilled   
out. Then she turned to Spike and looked at him.  
  
He was wearing no shirt and no shoes. His upper body and face   
were covered with bruises and deep gashes that looked to have   
been made by claws. He had a large, fiery red mark in the   
center of his chest, as if something hot had been held against   
him. And he was having trouble getting up, his arms refusing   
to cooperate with the task of pushing him to a sitting position.  
  
Buffy went to him and put an arm around his shoulders,   
helping him to sit.  
  
"Where the hell am I?" Spike asked, shaking his head.  
  
"Giles, I think you ought to know I've been dating Spike,"   
Buffy said.  
  
Both Spike and Giles gave her a puzzled look.  
  
"All right. But I don't see how that's relevant..." Giles said.  
  
"Probably not. But you're the only one left to tell."  
  
"And you were on me about smart-ass remarks," Xander said.   
"Apparently this god Enki is a bit of a wiseacre himself. We as   
about how to get a soul back, and he drops a soulless vampire   
on our heads."  
  
Anya and Tara were both looking at Spike with wide eyes.  
  
"Actually, Spike may be have the answer to our question,"   
Anya said, glaring at Xander. "Something I'm sure you don't   
have."  
  
Spike frowned. "Hello... confused, disoriented vampire here.   
Where...Am... I?" he asked carefully enunciating each word.  
  
"The Magic Box," Buffy answered. "I'm so glad you came   
back!" She hugged him, getting a wince in return.  
  
"Easy, pet," he said, carefully extracting himself from her grip.   
"I don't seem to have had any choice in the matter."  
  
Buffy gave him a worried look.  
  
Giles looked from Tara to Anya. "Are you saying..."  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
Giles took his glasses off and started to clean them.  
  
It was Xander's turn to be confused.  
  
"What? What's everybody not saying? Could someone finish a   
sentence please?"  
  
"I think Anya is indicating that Spike has somehow obtained a   
soul," Giles said slowly. "Is that so?"  
  
"Spike? Really?" Buffy said.  
  
"Later, pet. This is important. Call the ranger station at the   
wilderness area up north. There are two women stranded out   
there and one of them needs medical help. They need to get a   
medevac chopper to them."  
  
"Spike?" Buffy said again, now completely confused.  
  
"Now! Make the call! I'm not telling anybody anything until   
that's done!"  
  
--------------------   
  
Xander made the call, telling the ranger on the other end that   
he'd gotten a freak cell-phone call -- something that had   
bounced somehow and reached him even though he was much   
too far to have received it. He described the location as relayed   
by Spike.  
  
Buffy fussed over Spike's injuries. He was tired to the bone,   
and still somewhat confused. He kept wondering what day it   
was, and kept asking if the call had been made yet.  
  
"Spike, the soul. What happened?" Buffy asked finally.   
  
Spike didn't answer.  
  
"You did this for me?" she asked, her voice catching.  
  
"Part of it, love. Not all of it." He sighed.   
  
Buffy didn't think she had ever heard him sound so weary.   
  
Giles came over and gave Spike a serious look.  
  
"I'm afraid I seem to have lost the plot," he said.  
  
"Yeah, you leave the country for six months and the next thing   
you know everything's gone to hell," Spike said, giving the ex-  
Watcher a sour look.  
  
"You asked for a soul?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Can you tell us how you went about it?" 


	23. One

Countdown: One  
By ElsaF  
  
Summary: Here's where the 24-verse comes to a head. This AU   
split off after Dead Things in Season Six.  
  
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Buffy and Spike didn't   
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's unwillingness   
to acknowledge Spike publicly meant they broke up soon   
afterward. Spike decided to change himself into someone she   
would be willing to be seen with. Meanwhile, the Scoobies   
raided the Nerds, and Warren escaped and came back to shoot   
Buffy and Xander. Xander would have died, but Willow   
intervened with Osiris to prevent him from crossing over. The   
price for saving Xander's life was Willow's soul. Soulless   
Willow killed Warren horribly. Spike, meanwhile, won his soul   
by protecting strangers, inspiring someone else to courage and   
overcoming his self-doubt. Willow went to visit Tara and it   
went badly. Giles arrived by teleportation, and the gang got   
together to plan their strategy for dealing with Willow. They   
performed a ritual to ask for knowledge of how to restore   
Willow's soul, and the answer was Spike -- in person.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A jail cell is the last place Jonathan Levinson thought he would   
end up. Oh, his mother had often told him he'd come to no   
good end -- particularly if he continued to focus on video   
games rather than trying to get into medical school. But he'd   
never thought he'd come to this.  
  
Andrew was lying on the top bunk in their cell, staring at him   
balefully.   
  
"Stop looking at me that way!" Jonathan said with a frown.  
  
"Then get us out of here," Andrew whined.  
  
"What am I supposed to do, bend the bars with my super-  
strength?"  
  
"I don't know. Warren would have had us out of here by now."  
  
"And where's Warren? He dumped us. He's long gone.   
Probably somewhere in Mexico living off the haul from the   
bank."  
  
"Warren will come for us," Andrew said, squinching up his   
face like his was about to cry.  
  
"Face it, lackbrain. Warren probably doesn't even remember   
our names."  
  
Andrew turned over and faced the wall. Jonathan went over   
and looked out through the bars. The cop who sat at the desk   
outside had gone to the coffee machine. Pathetic, Jonathan   
thought. Sunnydale was such a hick town that they didn't even   
have video surveillance on the lockup -- just a fat cop with a   
donut and coffee habit.   
  
Then an idea hit him.   
  
"OK, you want out of here?" he said with a little smile. "You   
be ready to back me up here."  
  
"What?" Andrew said, turning back to him.  
  
"Just be ready."  
  
Jonathan closed his eyes and started to chant. His body began   
to shimmer. Then it went indistinct, only to reform itself in the   
image of a uniformed police officer.   
  
"Hey! Let me out of here! Help!" he shouted, his voice   
disguised.  
  
"Cool!" Andrew said.  
  
--------------  
  
Officer Bob Crisswell came running back to his desk in the   
lockup.   
  
"Ben! How'd you get in there?" he asked, when he saw the duty   
sergeant in one of the cells.  
  
"That kid! He pretended to be sick. He was all choking and I   
opened up to help him. But he grabbed my gun and escaped!"  
  
Bob got his keys. To his surprise, as soon as the door was open   
the man he'd thought was Ben shoved him into the cell. The   
other boy -- the blond one whose name he couldn't remember --   
was behind him and grabbed his gun out of it's holster. The boy   
giggled as he pointed the weapon.  
  
"Do you feel lucky?" the boy said.  
  
Bob was about to grab for the gun and teach the boy a lesson --   
after all, the boy didn't seem to realize that the safety was still   
engaged on the weapon, but the other occupant of the cell, the   
one who looked like Ben, grabbed the boy and hauled him out   
of the cell.  
  
"You idiot!" Jonathan said, letting the glamour fade and   
returning to his normal appearance. "Stop playing Clint   
Eastwood and get out here."  
  
Bob blinked. Ben was gone, and somehow his two prisoners   
were free. He, on the other hand, was locked in a cell.  
  
"Hey! Somebody let me out of here!" he shouted.  
  
-------------  
  
They walked out of the understaffed Sunnydale police station   
without anyone challenging them. It was after nine o'clock, and   
the stores on Main Street were closed, so there wasn't much   
traffic.  
  
"We've got to find a way out of town, fast," Jonathan said.   
"They're going to figure out we're gone and they'll be looking   
for us. Not many places to hide in a town like this."  
  
"Right," Andrew said. "We can steal a car..."  
  
Jonathan slapped him on the side of the head. "Dummy! If we   
steal a car, it will be reported, and they'll have our license plate   
number. The CHP will have us before sunrise."  
  
"Oh... "  
  
"We'll have to hitchhike."  
  
"Ponch was really cool..." Andrew said. "I like Erik Estrada."  
  
"Could you focus? Besides, Erik Estrada is older than your   
dad!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yeah... "  
  
The stopped short to find Willow Rosenberg blocking their   
path down the sidewalk.  
  
"Shit! Willow! She's with the Slayer," Andrew said, turning to   
run.  
  
"Not at the moment," Willow said in a strange voice. She put   
out a hand and Jonathan and Andrew found themselves unable   
to run. Their feet wouldn't move.  
  
"Really convenient to find you two out on the street," she said   
in a slow, casual tone -- a strangely un-Willowish tone to   
Jonathan's ear. "I was just coming to find you two. And here   
you've come out to meet me."  
  
"Um... I'm not sure this escape thing was such a good idea,"   
Jonathan said in a frightened voice. "We'll just go back inside   
now."  
  
"No! I won't hear of it. Can't have those nasty police locking up   
my sweet boys, can I?"  
  
Jonathan frowned. Something wasn't right here.  
  
"We're sorry, Willow," Jonathan said. "We're really sorry."  
  
She cocked her head to the side. "Why?"  
  
"What we did was wrong."  
  
Willow shrugged. "You two wanted to be supervillians, right?"  
  
"Yeah!" Andrew said, trying to look brave and bad.  
  
Willow laughed. "Well, let's do it then! You're short an evil-  
overlord and I could use some minions."  
  
"You want us to join you?" Jonathan asked, looking very   
skeptical.  
  
"That's what I said, isn't it?"  
  
"You want *us* to join *you*?" Jonathan repeated   
incredulously.  
  
"Look at it this way," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You've   
heard that old saying, haven't you? Life's a bitch, and then you   
die? Well, I've got a new one -- I'm a bitch and you're gonna   
die -- unless you keep me happy." She smiled at the two young   
men -- a low, humorless smile that made Jonathan's blood run   
cold.  
  
---------------  
  
Spike wasn't being particularly helpful. He was almost too tired   
to talk, and Buffy hated to keep pressing him. He'd had a few   
fairly confused things to say about fighting mountain lions.   
And he went on a bit about Doc being a wanker. But they   
couldn't get him to focus on the actual requirements for   
restoring a soul.  
  
"He needs rest," Tara said after a while. "He's not going to be   
able to help us until he gets himself sorted out. It looks like he's   
been through something pretty intense."  
  
Buffy nodded. She turned back to the vampire sitting in a chair   
at the research table. No, sitting wasn't exactly the right term.   
He was supported by the chair, draped over the table, his head   
supported by a hand on his forehead.  
  
"I'm going to take him back to his crypt," she said.  
  
Giles nodded. "Perhaps he'll be more coherent tomorrow."  
  
"Maybe we should take him to our place," Dawn said. "We   
could fix up a cot in the ba..."  
  
The door of the magic shop flew open with a crash. Willow   
walked through the door, Jonathan and Andrew close behind   
her.  
  
"That was sorta neat," Willow said. "I've always wanted to   
make a Buffy entrance."  
  
She sauntered into the center of the room.  
  
"Hail, hail the gang's all here," she said, looking around at her   
friends. "Saves me the trouble of gathering you all up."  
  
"Willow," Giles said, standing up to face her. "I'm glad you've   
come. We're working on a way to help you."  
  
"Help me? You must be confused. I don't need any help."  
  
"Yes you do. If you'll stop and think, you'll see it."  
  
"Nope. Not into thinking right now. Thinking makes me sad. I   
don't want to be sad anymore."  
  
"Then let us help you."  
  
He took a step toward her. She raised her hand and gestured   
toward him and he flew backward to slam into a bookshelf that   
toppled over backward.  
  
"Hey! Be careful around the merchandise!" Anya said angrily.   
"You break it, you bought it!"  
  
Willow raised an eyebrow. A crooked smile spread across her   
face. "Looks like I'm gonna be buying a lot of stuff."  
  
She pointed a finger at a display of magic crystals and the   
exploded sending sharp fragments flying in all directions. One   
brushed Dawn's cheek, leaving a bloody scratch.  
  
Anya kept her eyes on the angry witch, but bent down   
surreptitiously to put her hand on a book stored under the   
counter.  
  
She glanced over at Giles who was picking himself up out of   
the pile of books and broken shelves.  
  
Buffy had worked her way around behind Willow and   
launched herself at the witch to knock her off balance. Willow   
went down, but knocked Buffy away with a blast of magic.  
  
"Don't try that again," Willow said coldly. "The next time I   
have to pick myself up off the floor I'm going to do something   
you'll regret."  
  
"Willow! Don't do this," Xander said, standing up shakily.   
"We're your friends. We're not trying to hurt you."  
  
"You used to be my friends," Willow spat, pointing a finger at   
the carpenter.   
  
Xander cried out as he was knocked down. Anya ran out from   
behind the counter and positioned herself between Willow and   
Xander.  
  
"Stop that Willow. I won't let you hurt Xander."  
  
"Oh, you're going to stop me?"   
  
Anya opened the book and started to chant.   
  
Willow pointed a finger, but nothing happened. She cocked her   
head to the side.  
  
"Nice protection spell you're throwing up there. The big   
question is, how long can you keep it up?"  
  
Anya ignored her, continuing to read from the book.  
  
"I'm sure she'll keep it up long enough," Giles said. He   
gestured at Willow and she was pushed back by a wave of   
power.  
  
"Nice try, Rupert," Willow sneered. "But you aren't going to   
defeat me with a little bit of borrowed power. Mine is stronger.   
And Anya can't help you while she's busy protecting her   
spineless ex-fiancé."  
  
She advanced on Giles, her eyes narrow, her mouth set in a   
malicious smile.  
  
"Willow! For God's sake, stop!"  
  
Willow turned around in surprise. It was Jonathan.  
  
"You're a minion. Minions don't tell me to stop," she said.  
  
"Willow, you used to be my hero. Don't do this. It's so ...   
lame."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's lame. You're going nuts because you think everyone is   
mad at you. Well, maybe they are. But you can't go destroying   
everything that isn't just like you want it. There will be nothing   
left!"  
  
"What do you mean, I used to be your hero?"  
  
"You were," Jonathan said miserably. "You were one of the   
smart ones. Like me. But instead of always getting pushed   
around you always managed to get the better of the jocks and   
the cheerleaders and all the ones who thought they were better   
than us because they were popular and good looking and tall.  
  
"Even the teachers depended on you. When Miss Calendar   
died, they had you take over her class. That was so cool.  
  
"And when they made you tutor Percy West, you had him   
following you around like a whipped puppy. And he was the   
star on the basketball team. And it was because you were   
smart, not because you wore low necklines and tight jeans.  
  
"And I could always look at you and think that maybe smart   
people could win. I didn't have to be a loser. Maybe I could be   
a winner like you."  
  
Willow just looked at him in stunned silence.  
  
"Buffy was cool, but everybody expects pretty blondes to be   
cool," Jonathan continued. "You were cool because you were   
so smart.  
  
"Now you're trying to be like Warren, and that's just lame.   
Even Warren doesn't like being Warren."  
  
Willow snapped out of her trance.  
  
"Particularly now -- since I killed him."  
  
"You what?" Andrew cried. "You killed Warren? You bitch!"   
  
He ran at her and she flipped a finger at him. He ran into a   
solid, invisible wall and stopped, sliding down the non-existent   
surface to the floor, unconscious.  
  
"Good just wasn't working out for me," Willow said with a   
sneer.  
  
"I doubt you'll do much better with evil," Spike said.   
  
Everybody turned to find Spike sitting up, looking at Willow   
intently.  
  
"Oh, the incredible toothless vampire speaks," Willow said   
derisively.  
  
"Take my word for it. The whole evil gig just isn't all that   
satisfying. I should know."  
  
"Sorry, Buffy just doesn't float my boat," Willow sneered. "So   
I guess I don't have a good enough reason to be good."  
  
"Let me tell you about evil," Spike said. "One night, back in   
the '40s, Dru and me killed twenty-three people. I did fifteen of   
them. One of my biggest nights for killing ever. But you know   
what? It was insignificant. That night the Allies were bombing   
Hamburg. They killed forty thousand. And the Allies were   
supposedly the good guys. Queen and country and all that.   
Forty thousand. And even that was a drop in the bucket. More   
than three million Germans died in that war. And that was   
nothing. More than eleven million Russians died.  
  
"So those fifteen I did? It wasn't even enough to merit a   
footnote in a history book. Nobody even noticed.   
  
"I put a lot of effort into being the Big Bad over my century   
and then some of killing. You know what I wanted? I wanted   
to be noticed. I wanted people to say my name in whispers   
because they were afraid. I wanted to be respected.  
  
"But was I? Please... My best moments were pathetic compared   
to the things humans did. I killed a Slayer in the Boxer   
rebellion. But how many people did the Fists of Righteous   
Harmony kill? That's what the Boxers really called themselves.   
'Fists of Righteous Harmony.' All that killing was righteous, as   
far as they were concerned. They thought they were the good   
guys. Dru, Darla and me, we were just skimming off the   
mayhem caused by humans against humans.  
  
"You know why vampires haven't been wiped out? It's because   
we're not enough of a threat to make it worthwhile to try!"  
  
"And what about this lecture on the patheticness of vampires is   
supposed to make me break down and beg for forgiveness?"   
Willow said.  
  
"Dunno. I just thought you might like a little insight on where   
you're going, Red. If you want to make your mark as a Big   
Bad, you're going to have to out do World War II, and   
Vietnam, and the Gulf War all rolled together. You're going to   
have to do what Angelus failed at. Because if you stop short of   
destroying everything, then the other side, the good guys, if   
that's what you want to call them, they're just going to fix up   
everything you broke, and it'll be like you were never there.  
  
"So, are you ready for that, Red? You ready to destroy the   
world just so you don't have to face your friends'   
disappointment?"  
  
"Destroy the world? Now, that's an idea," Willow said, her   
voice tight. "Thanks for the suggestion."  
  
Willow raised her hands over her head and looked up. "I   
command the power," she said. "I call it to myself!"  
  
A column of light formed around her. It extended to the ceiling   
and the wood of the overhead beams began to smoke where it   
touched them.  
  
"Tell me, Spike," Giles said. "Are you actually on our side?"  
  
The air crackled and heat rolled off the pillar of fire. Willow's   
voice came from the center of the inferno, shrieking in pain --   
yet, her body was not consumed.   
  
"Willow! No! Don't do this! Please!" Tara ran to her and tried   
to reach into the light. Her hands burned as she reached out to   
it. She cried out in pain.  
  
Willow's shriek ceased and she looked out of her glowing   
capsule.  
  
"Tara, no. Stay back!"  
  
She gestured and Tara was pushed back, not thrown as the   
others had been, just pushed away.   
  
"Why bother pushing me back," Tara said, staring at her   
blistered hands. "If you're going to do this, I'll be killed with   
everyone else."  
  
Willow gestured again and Tara was encased in a crystal   
bubble. "I won't hurt you," Willow said. "I'll never hurt you."  
  
"You are hurting me! What am I going to do in here after the   
world is gone? If you destroy the world, you destroy me with   
it. How can you do that?"  
  
The light around Willow faded. The roof continued to smolder,   
but the heat rolling off the witch's body cooled and ceased. The   
bubble around Tara dissolved.  
  
Willow crumpled to the floor sobbing.  
  
"I just can't stand it. Everything I do hurts someone. Why can't   
I do anything right?" she sobbed.  
  
Xander picked himself up. Anya finally stopped chanting.  
  
"I'm still mad at you," she said to him, snapping the book shut   
and stomping off.  
  
Xander stumbled over to Willow. "You're not the only person   
who ever hurt someone without meaning to. And after you've   
done it, it's hard to look at the person you've hurt and know it's   
your fault, and if you'd just been a little smarter, or more   
sensitive, or more thoughtful, you could of avoided it."  
  
He bent down and took her in his arms.  
  
"But you can't change anything that's happened. You just have   
to go on and hope you'll get your head out of your ass before   
the next time."  
  
"What am I going to do?" Willow sobbed. "I can't seem to   
control myself. Everything comes out a hundred times worse   
than I mean it."  
  
"What we were working on when you came in was getting your   
soul back," Giles said, crouching down next to Willow and   
Xander.  
  
"I don't think you can," Willow said. "Osiris said the contract   
was irrevocable."  
  
"Few things are as irrevocable as they seem," Giles said.  
  
"I think that's where I come in," Spike said.   
  
Giles looked over his shoulder. "Yes, you were going to tell us   
how to earn a soul."  
  
"I had to complete a number of tests," Spike said.  
  
"By the looks of it, it wasn't written," Dawn said.  
  
"No, it wasn't. And I don't think Red would stand much of a   
chance with the kind of tests they tend to come up with."  
  
"That isn't tremendously helpful, Spike," Giles said, sounding   
slightly irritated.  
  
"But that isn't the only way. It's the way I went, but there is   
another. She can have a champion quest on her behalf."  
  
"Oh, that's better," Giles said with a smile. "So, we need to go   
up to the wilderness area up north now?"  
  
Spike shook his head. "No, I think this was all planned,   
actually. I think this is why I got dumped back here. After the   
bloke who was handing out the souls finished with me, and I'm   
sort of flat out on the ground, he bends over me and says, 'Keep   
in touch. If you need me, give me a ring,' and he tucks   
something in my pocket."  
  
Spike dug in the pocket of his jeans and drew out an amulet.  
  
"At the time, I thought he might be a poofter, but I think I see   
what he was up to now."  
  
Spike held the amulet out for Giles to see. It was a bronze disk, about an inch and a half across, with writing that looked a bit like cuneiform circling the edge. The disk was suspended on a hand-wrought chain.  
  
"I assume the writing would be instructions," Giles said, examining the object.   
  
"The summoning ritual is generally included on the talisman," Anya said helpfully.  
  
"Well, then we only need to identify the language, and get do a translation," Giles replied. "It shouldn't be too difficult."  
  
"Can I see?" Jonathan asked.  
  
Giles held the amulet out to him.  
  
"Looks like Babylonian, or one of the related dialects, to me."  
  
Andrew was recovering from his collision with the wall that wasn't. He was sitting up now, shaking his head to clear it.  
  
"Why are you helping them. They're just going to send us back to jail!" the boy whined.  
  
"Because I can," Jonathan said with a frown. "We're going to go back to jail anyway."  
  
"No way!"  
  
"Yes way!"  
  
"This is just like when you told my mother we were the ones who shaved her Yorkie."  
  
Jonathan refused to even dignify that with a reply.  
  
"I think you're right -- about the dialect," Giles said, squinting at the writing on the disc. "I think I have a reference on this."  
  
Spike looked impatient. "I think it's simpler than that. Wouldn't do much good to give this to me if you had to speak Babylonian to use it."  
  
He took the amulet back from Giles and went to where Willow was still huddled on the floor. Xander frowned at him as he approached, as if he thought Spike meant her some harm.  
  
Spike crouched down so he was face to face with her.  
  
"The main thing, as I understand it, is you have to want it, love. None of this means a thing if you don't want to change. Nobody can make you do it."  
  
Willow nodded.   
  
Spike put the amulet in her hand. She closed her fingers around it and closed her eyes. A light came from within her closed fist, making her hand glow red, the bones of her fingers shadowed within.  
  
Her eyes widened for a moment, and everyone turned to see what she was looking at.  
  
A seven-foot man with white-feathered wings stood behind the cash register. He was surrounded by an aura of white light and he held a sword that burned with blue flames.  
  
"Have you selected your champion?" the angel asked.  
  
Willow blinked. "Um..."  
  
"That would be me," Buffy said, stepping up to face the angel.  
  
The creature looked down at her for a long moment, then shook his head.  
  
"You may not pass," he said.  
  
"What do you mean? I've taken the challenge. I'll be Willow's champion," Buffy said with a frown.  
  
"I commend your courage. But you may not serve. You are the Slayer. Your power comes from the same source as my own. I cannot challenge you."  
  
Spike stood up. "Then I'll do it. I know what I'm getting into. Been through it already. I'll be Willow's champion."  
  
"Spike," Buffy said. "You can't. You're barely on your feet. You may have survived this once. But nobody would expect you to go back through it right away!"  
  
Xander stood up. "Then I'll do it. Willow gave up her soul for me. It's the least I can do."  
  
Spike made a rude noise. "Give me a break, Harris. You'd never survive."  
  
"He's right," Buffy said gently. "You're worse off than he is. You're not strong enough."  
  
"I'll do it," Giles said firmly.   
  
"You?" Spike said incredulously. "An aging shopkeeper and ex-librarian."  
  
"I'll have you know I have considerable skill in the martial arts," Giles said defensively.  
  
"ENOUGH!" the angel boomed. "I tire of your bickering. Decide amongst yourselves." He raised the sword and plunged it through the top of the display case, making a sound like thunder.  
  
"When you have selected your champion, let him take up the sword and bring it through the portal."  
  
The angel turned his back and raised his hands. A rectangle of white light appeared in the wall behind the counter. He stepped toward it.  
  
Buffy reached for the hilt of the sword, but the angel turned abruptly and glared at her.  
  
"Don't even think about it, Slayer!"  
  
Buffy stepped back.  
  
The angel stepped through the portal and was gone.  
  
Anya went over to where Giles, Xander and Spike were arguing over who would be the champion.  
  
"I think we need to take a different approach," she said.  
  
"I hope you're not going to volunteer," Giles said. "We've already got enough volunteers."  
  
"Me? Risk my life for Willow? I don't think so," Anya said evenly. "I was only going to suggest a method to settle the dispute."  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
"Draw straws," the vengeance demon said.  
  
It was Xander's turn to frown. "That is so... " He paused. "Actually, that's a pretty good idea, An."  
  
"Thank you, Xander," she said with a proud smile. "But I'm still angry with you."  
  
She went to the counter where there was a cup holding sticks of incense. She picked out three and broke the bottom off one. She palmed them so that the lengths would not be visible and held them out for the three men.  
  
Suddenly, Willow cried out. Everyone turned to see her eyes glowing with golden light. She opened her mouth to cry out again and light spilled from between her lips. Then the glow faded away and she collapsed to the floor.  
  
"What just happened?" Xander asked.  
  
Dawn had been standing off to the side through the discussion and argument. She looked around in panic now.  
  
"Guys, where's Tara?"  
  
She was gone. And so was the sword.  
  
----------------  
  
Tara stepped through the portal into the light beyond. The sword was heavy. Holding it up made her arms ache, and her hands stung from the burns she'd sustained touching Willow's power. But she persevered. She stopped once she was completely through the portal and looked around.  
  
There was nothing to see. There was only light. She was, as far as she could tell, alone here. The air smelled of apples and cinnamon.  
  
"Welcome." The voice was gentle and warm. It came from all directions and she felt it seep through her skin as much as she heard it.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked, looking for the source of the voice.  
  
"I will tell you my name soon, Tara MacLay." The voice said. "But now, let me simply welcome you."  
  
"Am I going to have to fight you?" Tara asked.  
  
The voice laughed with the sound of bells and wind chimes.  
  
"You make an unlikely warrior, my child."  
  
"Well, yes, that's true," she answered, letting the sword sag until the point rested on the ground and the weight was off her arms.  
  
"Yet, you took up the sword just the same."  
  
"Yes," she said shyly.   
  
"Sit. Be comfortable. You shall not be required to do combat."  
  
"Thank you." Tara settled down cross-legged on the ground, or floor, or whatever it was, since it wasn't differentiated from the walls or the ceiling or the sky.  
  
"What do you desire, Tara MacLay?"  
  
"I just want Willow to have a chance."  
  
"You want nothing for yourself?"  
  
Tara shook her head.  
  
"Are you certain?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You knew when you took up the sword that you had no chance of surviving a trial by combat."  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
"If you knew you could not succeed, why did you come through the portal?"  
  
"The others, for one reason or another, they wouldn't have succeeded either. Spike's too worn out. He's strong, but he couldn't go through it again so soon. Xander wasn't that strong to begin with. Oh, he's strong like a construction worker. But he isn't a warrior and he's recovering from being shot. And Mr. Giles -- well he's smart enough, but I don't think he practices fighting that much."  
  
"So you believed that whoever took the challenge would fail."  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
"And you decided to sacrifice yourself, rather than let one of them make the sacrifice."  
  
Tara nodded again.  
  
"A noble choice."  
  
"What happens now. If I'm not going to be tested by combat, how will you test me?"  
  
The voice laughed again.   
  
"The test has been given. You have succeeded."  
  
"Willow will get her soul back?"  
  
"It is already achieved."  
  
"Oh... then can I go back now?"  
  
"Your path lies a different direction, Tara MacLay."  
  
"I can't go back?"  
  
"No. But you knew that when you stepped through the portal, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes. I guess I did."  
  
"Don't be sad, child. The price is not death. You are simply moving on to meet your destiny. Much lies ahead of you. This is a beginning, not an end."  
  
"I see," Tara whispered.  
  
"Come to me now and I shall tell you my true name."  
  
---------------  
  
Spike helped Willow up. She was shaking and unsteady. He led her to a chair and helped her sit.  
  
"You OK, Red?" he asked.  
  
She nodded, though the pain in her eyes said otherwise.  
  
"Where's Tara?" she asked, her voice plaintive. "What did she do?"  
  
"I'm going to find out," Buffy said firmly.  
  
"Buffy, you can't go through the portal," Giles warned. "The demon was very clear on that point."  
  
"Demon?" Dawn asked. "It looked like an angel to me."  
  
Giles sighed. "Supernatural being. I suppose you might call it an angel, but that's just a word. It was a being from another plane of existence. A demon or perhaps an angel."  
  
"I don't care," Buffy replied. "It doesn't want me in there, but I'm not in the mood to be told what to do. I've had about enough of this. I'm going in there and I'm going to bring Tara back."  
  
She turned and stepped through the portal.  
  
----------------  
  
The other side was a long, a narrow room stone room with an arched ceiling and a granite altar at the far end. A bright light burned behind the altar.   
  
Buffy started toward it, but stopped when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, to find Spike two stepped behind.  
  
"Just watching your back, pet," he said.   
  
A moment later, Giles and Xander came through. Then Dawn, Willow and Anya.  
  
"I guess this is going to be a field trip," Dawn said. "I hope everybody has their permission slips."  
  
"I think the rest of you should go back," Buffy said.  
  
"We'll go back when you go back," Xander replied.   
  
"Whatever," Buffy said with a sigh. It just wasn't worth it to argue with them.  
  
She found the sword, no longer burning, lying on the flagstones of the floor half way down the room. She picked it up.  
  
"This is a little like Zelda," Xander said. "You go through a portal, turn west, pick up a sword."  
  
"I think it's a little more serious than a video game," Giles said gravely.  
  
As they approached, they could see that the light was the angel, standing behind the altar where Tara lay as if she was peacefully asleep. Her hands were crossed over her chest. Her face was relaxed and her eyes were closed.   
  
They drew near, Buffy in the lead and the others following, and the angel stepped out from behind the altar to block their way.  
  
"Slayer. You are not welcome here. Go back," the angel said sternly.  
  
"I know. You said I couldn't come here. But sometimes I don't follow orders, and frankly, I don't exactly get why I have to obey yours."  
  
"Go back or face my wrath."  
  
"I'll go back when I can take Tara with me," Buffy said firmly. "But since I'm here and all, I'd just like to ask one thing."  
  
"What do you wish to know?"  
  
"Have you ever heard of trousers? I mean, really. You're supposed to be a superior being? A pair of briefs, even a Speedo would be an improvement."  
  
The angel didn't seem to appreciate the humor of the situation.  
  
"Be gone," he boomed.  
  
"I don't care if I have to fight you," Buffy said firmly. "I'm not going back without Tara."  
  
"Then you would do to her what was done to you?" the angel asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Would you force her to return to the mortal plane?"  
  
Buffy let the sword sag down from its raised, ready for combat position.  
  
"Is that what I'm doing?" she asked.  
  
"It is."  
  
"No... It's not Tara's time. This can't be right. It's all got so muddled. One person sacrifices herself for another, and another. It's all this bizarre chain reaction. It's got to stop!"  
  
"It has stopped. The balance has been restored."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"When the witch pulled you from our domain, the spheres were thrown out of balance. The balance has been restored."  
  
"You mean Tara has taken my place?" Buffy said in a tiny voice.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Willow stepped forward. "That's not fair! It wasn't Tara's fault. I'm the one who insisted we do it. I'm the one who bullied everyone else into it. It should be me who has to give up her life."  
  
"It is not a punishment," the angel said. "And you are not ready for our domain. You have much to learn before you will cross the threshold again."  
  
The angel took the sword from Buffy's hand.  
  
"Go back, Slayer. And take your friends with you. This is not your place."  
  
"It was..." Buffy whispered.  
  
"Yes," the angel said gently. "It was. But you've re-entered the human world now. You have connections to these people and many others. You have embraced your calling once again. You are part of the web of life. It is not your time to leave the mortal plane."  
  
The angel raised the sword and brought it down on the stone floor. Light flared from spot where it struck and they were momentarily blinded.  
  
--------------  
  
When the light faded, they were back in the Magic Box. Willow sat next to the research table, her face buried in her hands, sobbing. Spike stood behind Buffy, waiting to see what she would do now. Giles, Anya, Xander and Dawn stood nearby, looking confused.  
  
Everybody seemed to be waiting for Buffy to do or say something.  
  
"I don't know what to say," Buffy said quietly.   
  
"Nor do I," Giles replied.  
  
"It was all my fault," Willow said between sobs.   
  
Buffy went over and put a hand on Willow's shoulder.   
  
"We've all made mistakes. You're not alone. We've all got amends to make," she looked up at Spike who stood nearby.  
  
"What I've done... I don't know how I can ever make up for it," Willow said.  
  
"Tell me about it," Spike replied.  
  
"So, what do we do now?" Xander asked.  
  
"Go on living, I guess," Buffy replied. "I don't know what else there is to do."  
  
"Yes, quite," Giles said. "I do have one question, though. Earlier, I must admit I was rather surprised at Spike's dramatic entrance, so I wasn't completely paying attention to you.  
  
"Did you say you've been dating Spike?" 


End file.
